


Forbidden Passion: A Soap Opera in Five Acts

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-05
Updated: 2008-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of PoA, in which Lupin is out and proud, Snape is a homophobic bastard, and the whole thing really belongs in the script of a soap opera. Oh, wait...</p><p>42,000 words. NC-17. Snape/Lupin. Brief Remus/Charlie and Snape/women. Significant appearances by Madam Rosmerta and Dumbledore. Written for snupin_santa and based heavily on the Christian/Olli storyline in the German soap, <i>Verbotene Liebe</i>. Yes, really. :) November 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden Passion: A Soap Opera in Five Acts

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to islandsmoke for the beta work.

**Act I**

Esmeralda gripped the knife tighter with every step forward. "He's mine!" she spat, the ripped strap of her cocktail dress slipping down her shoulder as she advanced.

"You won't get away with this!" hissed Constance, even as she cowered against the wall. "Jean-Claude will find my body, and he'll know it was you. He'll make sure you rot in hell for this!"

A tinkly laugh, and Esmeralda paused in her step. "Rot in hell? Oh no, darling, I don't think so." She leaned in close to her nemesis, tracing the blade of the knife over the soft skin of Constance's throat. "He wouldn't dare send me to jail, not when I'm–" she paused, narrowing her eyes before delivering the final blow – "carrying his baby!"

Remus gasped, dropping his popcorn. "No!"

"What?" a panicked voice called from the kitchen. "What did I miss?"

Whipping his head towards the kitchen door, Remus caught Rosmerta's face peeking out, one hand laden with a plate of cakes. He made a frantic beckoning gesture with his hand. "She's _pregnant_."

"No!" Rosmerta ran into the living room, still holding the plate aloft. She stared at the advert now on the screen. "Is it Hamish's?"

"Jean-_Claude's_," said Remus with extra emphasis, his mouth gaping. Rosmerta's jaw dropped as well as she turned to look at him.

"You are fucking kidding me. From the rape?"

"_Yes_," insisted Remus urgently before turning back to the screen.

"Oh my God. Constance is going to kill her!"

"I _know_. Except, she's going to kill Constance first!" Remus beckoned again, and Rosmerta plopped down beside him on the couch, where he grabbed a cake from her platter and took a big bite. "Ah, fuck, it's over!" he added through his full mouth as the credits began to roll on the screen. "Bloody cliffhangers."

Rosmerta patted his hand, rising to switch off the box. The secret of tapping into select Muggle entertainment ventures through a few spare wires and a bit of well-placed magic had been circulating underground in the Wizarding community for a few years, but only recently had Rosmerta and many others begun to use it to watch Muggle television shows on what looked like a cardboard box. It wasn't as though they had much choice, what with Wizarding entertainment stalled at a few Weird Sisters albums and the annual Christmas croonings of Celestina Warbeck. "Same time tomorrow, love?" She smiled at him.

He groaned, finishing the last of the cake and falling back against the sofa cushions. "_Tomorrow_ I have a meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore, believe it or not."

Her eyes widened. "You didn't tell me this!"

"Just got the owl yesterday." He bit at his lip, thinking.

"You don't suppose... Is it a job, then?" She couldn't quite keep the note of hope out of her voice, he noticed.

"A job." He fixed her with a look before lifting one hand and gesturing over his torso. "Like this? Hardly. He'd have every parent in the school in to complain about someone like _me_ teaching their children."

She squinted at him, appraising his tight t-shirt, worn leather wrist bands, the black pendant at his throat and the row of earrings up one ear. "Well, you'd clean up all right if you tried."

He opened his mouth to reply but then reconsidered. She meant well; he knew that. But she would never completely get it. "I shouldn't have to try," he said quietly, and she sighed.

"No, I know, love. That's not what I–"

"I know," he interrupted. "But this is who I am. If teaching at that school means going back to hiding everything I had to hide as a student there, walking around in those hideous button-up robes, pretending to whistle at the good-looking birds and clap my buddies on the back in manly fashion–" he dropped his voice at that to a tough-guy caricature – "then I don't want any part of it. I did my seven years." He smiled weakly at her. "No need to add to the trauma."

"I didn't mean the clothes _themselves_," she insisted. "I meant the patches on them."

Remus glanced down at a loose thread unravelling from the hem of his shirt. "Oh. Well, yes, there's also that." He thought about it for a moment. "Can't even afford a bit of glitter for my boring old suitcase, if I do have to move to Hogwarts," he added mournfully.

She gave him a sympathetic smile and headed back over to the couch, dropping down beside him and wrapping her arms around him. He reciprocated the gesture, snuggling against her and sighing. "Was it really that bad when you were a student?" she asked, and he snorted a laugh.

"Well, let's see. My mates were all right, but that was mostly because they themselves were all too happy to shag anything that had a pulse – bloke or bird irrelevant. But the Slytherins..." He leaned his head on her shoulder, frowning. "In addition to everything else they had their heads up their arses about–"

"–and that was quite a long list, if your years were anything like mine," she added, and Remus laughed.

"Yes, exactly, and gay rights wasn't exactly something a House dedicated to blood purity and rule by majority were terribly keen to fight for." He paused, some of the more vicious insults from all those years ago sparking to life again in his mind. At the edges of the memories, he tried not to focus on one particular Slytherin who, if not exactly the ringleader, was more than comfortable participating when the others got started – hence the reason James and Sirius ended up in so many fights with him.

"Sounds like the lot of them just needed a good cock up the arse," she said, her voice quite serious, and Remus glanced up at her for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Well!" she protested.

He disentangled himself and rose from the sofa, smiling down at her. "Can't argue with that." He leaned down to peck her on the cheek before grabbing his cloak and twirling it around his shoulders. "Speaking of which, I might just have to stop by Flanery's and find myself a date tonight. Take the edge off before I've got to deal with whatever Dumbledore wants."

She rolled her eyes, waving him off. "Day after that, then," she called as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway leading downstairs to the Three Broomsticks. "I want to see how Jean-Claude thinks he's going to get out of _this_ one."

*

Another year, another bloody Welcoming Feast.

Severus finished buttoning his stiffest robes – the set he reserved for just this evening every year, in order to achieve maximum intimidation – and locked his door behind him as he headed out of the dungeons. So very much to look forward to this year: Draco and his whinging about Potter; Dumbledore's annual bout of Gryffindor favouritism; Hagrid with his pink bloody umbrella, masquerading as a qualified Care of Magical Creatures professor; and the cool sting of Dementor breath closing in around the castle.

Not to mention, of course, that by order of the bloody headmaster, Severus would now have to spend his evenings filtering armadillo bile and monitoring the production of one of the more difficult and time-consuming potions in the Wizarding world, all to keep the school safe from that ridiculous, flamboyant –

He arrived at the Great Hall and made his way through the front entrance reserved for staff at the High Table, stopping dead in his tracks as his gaze fell on the newest faculty member.

– embarrassingly inappropriate, limp-wristed, arse-docking bloody _queen_.

"So glad you could join us, Severus," murmured Dumbledore, gesturing to the seat beside him with a faint smile. The others at the table mumbled their greetings or simply gave him a curt nod – all except the newcomer, who completely ignored him. "You know Professor Lupin, of course," continued Dumbledore, raising his voice and nodding down the table, where Lupin finally glanced up from his plate.

Severus narrowed his eyes. Could the man even comprehend, somewhere in his dulled, animal brain, that if he was going to work at a school, there were certain behaviours, certain _attire_ that was not permitted? Even Lockhart's worst offence had been an overdose of lace. There was a big difference between a cartoon buffoon like him and the bald, undisguised sexuality of a man like Lupin. "Unfortunately," he said slowly, throwing Lupin a filthy glare.

Returning the look, Lupin set his fork down and sat back in his chair, his robes falling open to reveal more of the tight, glossy blue button-up he wore underneath. "You're staring, Severus," he drawled, his tone casual even though his gaze remained icy. "Not that I don't appreciate a man's attention, but I rather thought you were the sort to wait till after dinner."

That cow, Sinistra, covered her giggle with her hand.

Emboldened, Lupin sat up straighter, shook his hair off his face and gave Severus a flirty look. "But if you're so eager, I'm sure our colleagues and the students will keep themselves quite occupied here a while longer, while we slip off to the loo."

Despite the student chatter rising from the Hall, the staff table fell deathly silent, as multiple gazes dropped to the plates before them.

"How dare–" Severus began, but Lupin cut him off.

"Isn't that what you always assumed about me, every time I walked out of the loo back at school?" he said nastily, his eyes narrowed at Severus. "Might as well make it true."

"Remus…" Dumbledore cut in sternly, but in under a second, Lupin's venom turned into a carefree laugh, and he leaned close to Minerva, who was seated on his right.

"Oh, keep your shirt on, Headmaster. Just having a little fun with Professor Snape. Now, Minerva, what do you suppose we are going to have to do to those house-elves to get them to bring us more of that trifle, hm?" She smiled stiffly at him as he dragged his index finger through a spot of whipped chocolate on his plate, sucking it into his mouth and glancing up at Severus again.

"Have a seat, Severus," said Dumbledore wearily, and Severus dropped into it without protest, still staring at Lupin's finger. "I shall speak with him," added Dumbledore close to his ear, "but you are not blameless here, if my recollections of your school days serve me well. The two of you are simply going to have to learn to get along."

Severus's gaze wandered angrily over Lupin's appalling earrings, down the open collar of that ridiculous shirt and the black medallion nestled at the base of his throat, and pausing at the hint of – were those _wrist bands?_ – peeking out from the sleeves of his robes.

As if sensing Severus's thoughts, Dumbledore continued. "He is more than qualified for the position, not to mention a friend of mine and an able colleague."

"Yes," began Severus, "but the _children_–"

"–deserve an education in which they are introduced to a diversity of people and situations." He gave Severus a pointed look before sitting back in his chair and popping another bite of cobbler into his mouth. "I must say, I find him refreshing," he added, that damn twinkle in his eyes. "Despite Gilderoy's unfortunate obsession with his own hair, this faculty has been long overdue for a professor with an actual sense of style."

 

*

"This was, without a doubt, the worst – ung – idea – hold tighter, _ung_ – ever."

"Keep your feet down."

"I'm _trying_, but you keep letting go."

"How did you get so out of shape, anyway? Here, come on, do ten more. And what was the worst idea, this?"

"No, this – ung – is a spectacular idea. I'll go mad if I don't get out of that castle, and even madder if my abs lose any more muscle tone. Ung. Christ. Ten more, seriously?"

"Think of your abs! Come on, soldier."

Remus crunched up towards Rosmerta, one elbow touching the opposite knee as he did, and then fell back down to the floor before starting over. "_Soldiers_," he said breathlessly. "Now _that's_ an idea. Tell me again why there isn't a Wizarding army?"

"Well, there are the Aurors. It's all we need, I guess."

Remus snorted. "They all have sticks up their arses, and not in a good way. Macho bloody freaks." He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "If I ever find an Auror who wouldn't break out in a rash to be seen in leather and eyeliner, I think I'd be in love forever."

"Well, good luck finding one of those. Hey, that was only eight." She narrowed her eyes, her fingers digging into his feet where she held them down.

He glared at her and did two more half-hearted crunches before flopping down to the floor, legs sprawled. "Happy?" he asked petulantly.

She smiled, dusting herself off and rising to her feet.

"Worst idea ever," he continued, reverting back to his previous topic, "was thinking I should work at bloody Hogwarts. They've _Dementors_, Rosie! What the bleeding _fuck_?" He scrubbed at his face before letting his arms fall to either side of his head. "I've barely any lesson plans ready; I haven't a clue what to do with first-years who look like they're five years old _or_ the seventh-years who look entirely too delectable, if that nancy bloody Hufflepuff who stayed late the other day to ask after my _wand_ is any indication. Oh, thank you."

He paused as she passed him a glass of water, sitting up to take a deep drink before flopping down on the floor again.

"And this business with Sirius is just, God, it's ridiculous, really. Just when I thought I'd never have to think about any of that again, here it comes to punch me in the face." He pressed his lips together, trying to block out all memories of his younger years with the Marauders. "And to top it all off, just because I really don't have enough to be getting on with, that king of the bastards extraordinaire, Severus fucking Snape, is already prancing around, trying to make my life miserable." He sighed, flinging one hand over his forehead.

Rosmerta settled down on the floor beside him. "What's he done now?"

"Oh, he's just a miserable old prick with an axe to grind. Always has been." He rolled his head to the side to glance at her, pouting. "Don't forget he's the only one at that school who knows what I am, besides Dumbledore."

"A raging queen with terrific hair?" She smirked, and he scowled at her before reconsidering.

"Well, obviously. But they aren't the only two who know about _that_, if my Hufflepuff admirer is any indication." He paused before grumbling, "Bloody Hufflepuffs, always trying to get in someone's pants. Some things never change. But _Snape_, Rosie – focus."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'll not let him get to me this year. We're not students anymore. He can be a prick all he wants, and I don't have to give him the satisfaction." He nodded firmly to himself, as Rosmerta patted him sympathetically on the arm and threw his shirt at him as she rose. "Besides," he added, making a face. "I bet he's the sort who has a hairy chest. Blokes like that should never walk around with that much confidence."

*

Severus stormed up to the headmaster's office, his cloak billowing as much as he could muster by taking advantage of the castle's drafts. Muttering the password and ascending the spiral staircase with mounting irritation, he strode into the office and immediately began his tirade.

"Headmaster, I really must object, once again, to your hiring of this buffoon for–"

"Shhh!" Dumbledore held a hand up to him, and then turned his attention back to a small box on his desk.

Severus's ears pricked up. The box was talking.

"How dare you use an innocent baby as leverage with Jean-Claude!" a woman's voice shrieked from the box. "He'll see right through you. He'll never give you Sun Valley Manor!"

"Oh no? Or maybe it's you who needs leverage, Constance," a second, poisonous voice responded. "You know Hamish was about to tell Mary Beth that you've run the Grafton finances into the ground!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up, and he pursed his lips. "Oho!" he said softly, nodding. "I _thought_ Hamish had been acting strangely yesterday." He tapped two fingers on the desk. "Indeed, indeed."

Severus huffed, glaring across the desk.

"Oh, Severus. Do come in." Dumbledore silenced the box and smiled at him, gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Since when do you sit up here watching the _telly_?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I blame my dear Rosmerta over at the Three Broomsticks. She's quite addicted to this particular programme, and as I found myself enthralled right along with her one day while nursing a well-earned blueberry tea, she showed me the necessary spells to hook it up." He smiled. "Do allow an old man his small pleasures, Severus."

"Hmph." Severus eyed the offered chair but refused to sit.

"Now, to which buffoon are you referring this time? I have already asked Professor Hagrid not to sit next to you at meals, as you requested."

"Lupin!" exclaimed Severus, throwing his hands up and spitting the name.

Dumbledore's face immediately hardened. "We are not having this discussion again, Severus. My decision is final. Remus Lupin is a professor at this school now, and you will treat him respectfully, as a colleague."

"He wears _earrings_," Severus ground out.

Dumbledore blinked at him.

"And he refuses to button his robes! The children can see those awful, shiny shirts he wears underneath."

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side.

"He has–" Severus gestured with his hands – "jewellry and strange hair and– and– he's a werewolf!"

Dumbledore frowned.

"It's not right that a _werewolf_ should have that little chest hair," he finished, folding his arms over his chest and scowling.

"Well, as to that," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, "I do believe it's called 'waxing.' Many gay men prefer it, I've heard."

"Gay. _Gay_." Severus balled his hands into fists. "That is precisely the problem. He is disgusting. The children should not be taught by someone like him."

Dumbledore sighed. "His clothes and his jewellry and his chest hair aside, Severus," he began quietly, "Professor Lupin did save a carriage of students from a Dementor attack on the way to school this year, including Harry. I think that proves he is more than qualified for this job, and that the children are better served by his presence than they would be by his absence."

"A trained Flobberworm could cast a Patronus against a Dementor and hand out chocolate after," grumbled Severus.

"Neither of those tenets of magic are taught in the Hogwarts curriculum," Dumbledore corrected him, "which means that Professor Lupin has obtained that knowledge through his travels and apprenticeships over the years. He is highly qualified for this position."

Severus decided to try a different tack. "He has been baiting me," he announced. "You heard him at the Welcoming Feast."

Dumbledore removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "To be honest, Severus, a trip to the loo with that man might just do wonders for your constitution."

Severus began to splutter.

"Oh, calm down. Now, listen to me." His voice turned grave, and he paused to fix Severus with a stern look. "I would really rather not know this information one way or another, since it does not affect any business you have ever conducted with me, either at this school or during the war, but I am led to believe that you prefer sex with women. Is this correct?"

Severus's mouth fell open. "Well, of course it's correct. And it's not a _preference_," he added, scowling further. "There is no other option. It is the natural order of things."

"Well, in that case, Severus, our business is done. I am appalled that you kept this information from me."

Severus blinked.

"Pack your things." Dumbledore's voice took on a hardened edge, and he rose from his desk to loom over Severus. "We do not allow men like you to teach children. It's criminal that you should even be allowed outside your own home!" Dumbledore banged his fist on the desk, and Severus nearly jumped. "_Women_, Severus – how could you? You are disgusting. I have no further use for you."

Severus narrowed his eyes and stood his ground, staring down the headmaster across the desk. Several long, painful seconds passed before Severus finally let out a deep breath, dropping his eyes. "Your point is made," he allowed, and Dumbledore's face broke into a wise smile once more.

He sat back down at his desk and shuffled some parchment. "Excellent. This shall be the last we speak of Remus Lupin's place at this school, then. Oh, that reminds me." He found a piece of parchment under a pile and handed it to Severus. "Most of this year's full moons fall on days available for him to rest, but this first one, alas, does not. I shall need you to cover his classes for a day next month."

Snatching the parchment and nearly crumpling it in his fist, Severus pressed his lips together and nodded. "Headmaster," he sneered, bowing slightly.

"Good day, Severus." Dumbledore gave him one last twinkling smirk before flipping the television on again, and Severus huffed, retreating from the office.

*

The image really was just too delicious not to dwell on for a little bit longer. Remus leaned back in his chair and snickered as he recalled it:

Severus Snape, in all his attempted heterosexual, macho glory, fitted in Augusta Longbottom's Sunday finest, like the very best drag queens Flanery's had to offer. It was the fox stole that had really taken the prize, Remus mused, as he kicked his legs up on his desk. Despite his frigid disposition, Snape _would_ look dashing in a bit of costume – maybe not dressed like Mrs Longbottom, of course, but with the right gothic make-up he would make a very pretty boy. All he would need would be a few well-placed strokes of eyeliner and a deep cranberry-black over his lips. Remus allowed himself a small moan as he indulged his fantasy.

Leather trousers would also be a must, of course, and no shirt. A gold ring through one nipple, and maybe a black collar. Heavy boots – oh, yes, Remus did like a _stomping_ sort of man – and long, fine hair loose around his face. Topping it all off (so to speak) would be a large, gratuitous bulge at his groin as he prowled towards Remus.

"Professor?"

A timid knock came at the door, and Remus jumped. His feet came crashing off the desk, and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself and smooth out the front of his robes before the voice became a body, opening his office door.

"Ah, Neville." He gestured for the boy to enter. "Come in. Glad you could stop by." He squinted at the boy as he shuffled in: too tall for his age and a bit gangly, all oversized limbs and a torso that didn't quite know how to manage them. How achingly familiar.

He settled Neville down in a chair and made them both a cup of tea, asking about his other classes and inquiring after his grandmother's health. The boy chatted politely, answering with as many _yes_ and_ no_ statements as he could get away with, before Remus finally sat back in his chair and eyed him.

"So," he began, gazing over the rim of his teacup. "Tell me about these problems you're having with Professor Snape."

Neville jumped in his seat at that, and Remus didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the boy instinctively glanced over his shoulder as though expecting to find the great menace himself closing in on him. "No, sir. No problems."

Remus set his cup down. "Neville," he said gently, "don't get me wrong; I have the utmost respect for all my colleagues and would never encourage a student to speak ill of them. But that man is a deliberate bully, and if I can help you manage him, I would like to. You need not hide that fact from me."

Neville blinked at him a few times but then seemed to release all the air in his lungs. He slumped forward in his chair, his shoulders sagging in relief. "He's _so_ cruel," he moaned, his head falling forward into his hands.

Pressing his lips together, Remus was jolted by a more intense urge than he had ever felt before to pin that awful man down in a tunnel at full moon and rip him to shreds. Picking on men his own size was one thing, but a thirteen-year-old boy?

"I mean, I know I'm not very clever at everything, and I've a terrible memory, and I don't have as many friends as some of the other blokes in Gryffindor. I mean, Harry's got Ron and Hermione, and Seamus has got Dean, and– well, the girls have got each other." He paused, clenching his jaw. "And I don't– I don't have a mum and dad the way the others do, so I know I'm different. Well, except Harry, and he's all right of course. But it's just–" He fought back tears, and Remus wordlessly handed him a tissue from his desk, trying to ignore the tug at his own heart at the mention of Harry's parents.

"And Professor Snape seems to know just where to hit you where it hurts," he said gently, and Neville glanced up, nodding. "I know this sounds like hollow advice right now, but being different isn't always a bad thing, you know." He raised an eyebrow and gestured down at his clothes – flared olive corduroys today with a narrow striped shirt, only peeking out from his boring, official robes, of course.

Neville gazed at him for a few seconds, taking in the clothes and squinting at the jewellry before he tilted his head to the side. "Yeah," he murmured. "I've not seen a bloke wear an earring before. And you've got– five?"

"Five here, one on the other," confirmed Remus, tapping each of his ears. "The Wizarding world can be quite boring, wouldn't you say? Everyone looks the same. I simply enjoy looking a bit different from everyone else."

"But you don't have to!" moaned Neville, his eyes wide. "Why would you _want_ to be different if you don't have to?"

"Well," began Remus, hesitating as he considered how best to explain this to the boy without revealing private matters, but also without lying. "I do have to," he said softly. "I've tried dressing like everyone else before, and acting like everyone else, and liking the same things everyone else likes, and it made me miserable."

"Oh." Neville leaned forward, his elbows planted on his knees. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean." He nodded to himself.

"These, for instance–" he fingered his ears again – "are sort of a way of signalling to other people who are different. For instance, it's not guaranteed, but if I see another man walking down Diagon Alley with earrings like mine, then I can usually assume that he's a bit different, too. Like I am. And maybe we can be friends, if we are two people who wear earrings when other men don't."

"I– oh. Okay." Neville scrunched his nose up, deep in thought. "One time, Michael Corner forgot his book in Charms, and I only noticed because I'd forgotten mine, too. So we both ended up sharing with Hermione, but I thought it was nice to know that sometimes other blokes forget their books, too."

Remus nodded. "Yes, exactly." Perhaps he wouldn't prove such a poor teacher, after all, he couldn't help thinking. God, Neville really did look like his parents, the best of both of them. His heart constricted a little bit.

They chatted for another twenty minutes about Neville's Herbology class and his plans for taking extra tutorials with Professor Sprout, and when the teapot was finally empty and the sun had set outside the window, he stood and waved at Remus. "Well, bye," he said with a smile, looking much more relaxed than he had when he'd entered.

Remus waved back, wondering idly how many more chats like this it would take before the boy would be able to stand up to Severus Snape – or how many run-ins between them, for that matter, it would take for Remus to do the same.

*

Severus really had to applaud himself. It was already the end of October, and he had successfully avoided most contact with Lupin. Well, most contact besides sending him a nastily-worded note after hearing of the incident with Longbottom's Boggart and trying his best, once again, to have Dumbledore fire the manipulative bloody freak after Black broke into the castle.

"But Severus," he mock-whinged under his breath now as he settled into his quarters for the evening, hanging his cloak beside the door. "I couldn't _possibly_ have known Sirius would try something like this! I haven't had his cock up my arse in _years_." He snorted. "Stupid bloody faggots," he grumbled.

If Dumbledore wouldn't see reason about the man's offensive clothing and attitude – prancing around this school like he didn't even care who knew about his filthy sexual habits – then maybe Dumbledore would react to the _other_ danger Lupin posed. At least, that had been Severus's rationale for encouraging Lupin's Defence Against the Dark Arts class to learn a few choice tidbits from the back of their textbook early this year. He smiled...

... and was promptly interrupted in his pleasurable memories of the class by an angry knock at his door.

"Open this door, Severus," Lupin shouted, continuing to hammer his fist at it. "Right fucking now."

With a sigh, Severus frowned at it. "I am not here," he called.

"Fuck. _You_." Lupin punctuated each word with another bang on the door, until Severus scowled, rising to his feet and waving his wand at the door. Lupin spilled through it in a flushed rage. "What have I _ever_ done to you?" he bit out, his eyes flashing. "You can be pissed off about making the Wolfsbane – fine. I've already told you I would take some essays off your hands in return, or anything else you need. But that alone is not enough to justify breaking Dumbledore's trust this way."

Severus glared. "Dumbledore is acting like a love struck fool around you."

"Dumbledore is the only person treating me with any respect in this school." He stood in front of Severus, using his slight advantage in height to stare Severus down. That ridiculous leather pendant bobbed against his throat as he shouted, and Severus found his eyes fixated on it. "The others politely tolerate me," Lupin continued, brushing his fringe off his forehead, "and proceed to whisper behind my back. And that's fine," he added, his lips a thin line. "I'm used to that. But one thing they will never do is break the secrecy of anything Dumbledore has told them – including my lycanthropy."

"I was merely teaching your class, as you and Dumbledore asked of me," said Severus with a shrug.

"It's October, Severus. We aren't due to cover werewolves till May, and you know it."

"If those students are clever enough to deduce the reasons for your absence, it is hardly my fault."

"It is _entirely_ your fault," spat Lupin, his chest heaving. "Are you– do you honestly not understand how serious this is? Are you actually that big of a clueless fucking idiot?"

Severus raised his wand. "Get out," he snarled, but Lupin only stepped closer.

"You will not bully me anymore," he shot back, his voice deathly quiet. "I get to control who knows what about my life. Is that clear? _Me_. Not you, not your Slytherin cronies and not even Dumbledore."

"Your life!" Severus barked a laugh. "Too many secrets tying you up in knots, Lupin?" He rolled his eyes, but Lupin stepped closer still, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"Just the one," he murmured, holding Severus's gaze. "I am open about everything else in my life. _Everything_. Except that. You can call me every name in the book; I don't care. You can laugh at my clothes and try to get me fired and even tell the children I suck cock." He jabbed the finger in again. "I don't fucking _care_." He lifted his hand away to gesture over his face and down his robes, even shaking his sleeves up to reveal the leather wrist bands. "I will brand myself the way I want to," he added. "But I will not let the Ministry brand me. I am _not_ an animal. If you can't understand the difference, then I will never be able to explain it to you."

Severus paused, his gaze roving over Lupin's body and taking in the outlandish jewellry and the tight black shirt underneath his robes. He pursed his lips before meeting Lupin's gaze again. "Then you might as well stop trying," he retorted, pointing at the door. "Good evening."

Lupin opened his mouth as if to reply but then closed it again, huffing out an angry breath. Shaking his head, he whirled around and strode back to the door, flinging it open and storming down the hall.

*

A week after his latest argument with Snape, Remus still found himself fuming every time he thought of the man. Miserable bloody prick. He worked hard to maintain his sense of calm, reminding himself in nightly meditations that he was strong now, a beautiful, confident man who would not be bullied anymore. Being back at Hogwarts was much harder than he'd anticipated, though. God, watching all those adolescents fumbling with their own sense of self-worth, teasing each other and sliding into their classroom chairs with red eyes or bowed heads was almost too much to take.

He had already caught two pairs of upper-year boys snogging behind various suits of armour during his turn at evening rounds. He'd casually moved back in the other direction, making a show of ensuring they knew his footsteps were retreating. If only his own teachers had afforded him that courtesy back at school, he thought bitterly, rather than hauling him forth and lecturing him until he was red-faced with shame.

He had known since he had first set foot at Hogwarts that he wasn't like the other boys – and not only because of his monthly transformations. Five years of trying to fit in – followed by two of finally flaunting the fact that he didn't – had left him more than a little scarred by the whole Hogwarts experience. If he could save any other boy – or girl, for that matter – the trauma, he would.

"Hi, Professor Lupin," a voice said too loudly, as Remus made his way through the thinning crowds back to his office after his last afternoon class. He turned. Ah, his Hufflepuff admirer. Christ. This was something he had not exactly prepared for: the possibility of student crushes.

He gave a non-committal wave, continuing down the hall.

"Don't you want to ask about my wand?" the boy called, and then Remus heard it: the accompanying snickers of the boys around the Hufflepuff. He stopped in his tracks and turned back towards them. "I've been practicing keeping it _stiff_ in my hand, the way you showed me." He grinned at one of his friends, who had punched him good-naturedly in the arm.

Trying not to panic and still maintain some semblance of authority, Remus lifted his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. "Ten points from Hufflepuff, Mr... what's your name again?"

The boy looked startled, and then angry. "Clarke, sir," he called back.

"Mr Clarke, then. For disrespecting a professor."

"Professor!" the boy began to protest, but he quickly clamped his mouth shut as a new set of footsteps approached down the corridor. Clarke stared over Remus's shoulder, tight-lipped, and Remus followed his gaze to see Snape stalking towards them. He let out a breath of relief. Safety in numbers.

"Why aren't you in class?" Snape asked the group of boys abruptly.

They stared down at their shoes, mumbling excuses.

"Silence! Be gone now, and you shall accept Professor Flitwick's late penalties."

"Yes, sir," they grumbled, shuffling off down the corridor, as Remus sighed and prepared to thank Snape for his help, unnecessary though it might have been.

"Oh, and Mr Clarke?" called Snape, his shoulders back and his nose in the air. The boys turned. "Twenty points _to_ Hufflepuff, I think–" he paused to spear Remus with a nasty glare before his lips curled up in a sickening smile – "for correctly calling a spade a spade."

The boys burst into excited whispers as they hurried off down the hall, and in his shock, Remus let Snape stride away before he could speak. Standing alone in the middle of the corridor as the bell rang again, he stared after Snape, his mouth open in disbelief and his stomach churning with awful memories.

***

 

**Act II**

"Esmeralda, my darling." Hamish smoothed one hand over the slick grey hair above his ear, confident that it remained impeccably in place. He sat beside Esmeralda on the antique sofa and took her bejewelled hand. "There is something I must tell you."

Her blue eyes widened as she blinked innocently at him. "My God, you look so serious." She gave a nervous laugh. "What is it, darling?"

He rose, covering his face with his hands in a dramatic flourish as he turned towards the crackling fireplace. "This baby... it's making me rethink my priorities in life."

"I've told you, darling," said Esmeralda, her sugar-sweet tone hardening. "I want to raise this child with _you_. Jean-Claude means nothing to me! He will never get anywhere near my child."

"I should have been there to protect you from him," said Hamish, flinging a hand over his forehead.

"Darling..."

"But no matter now." He turned to face her again, gazing down at her over his trimmed, white moustache. "There is something I should have told you many years ago... something your father confided in me before the accident."

She rose from the sofa as well, moving cautiously towards him with her hand laid protectively over her still-flat stomach. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Agnes," he called over his shoulder, his eyes still on Esmeralda. "Will you come here, please?"

From the kitchen, a perfectly coiffed maid emerged, her skirt too short and her spotless feather duster clutched in one hand. "Yes, Mr Grafton?"

"You can stop with the act now," he told her, as Esmeralda's eyes flew between the pair of them. "I'm going to tell her the truth."

The maid froze. "Are you sure that's wise, sir?" she asked through clenched teeth, and Esmeralda threw her hands up.

"Hamish!" she exclaimed. "What is going on?"

"Darling, I want you to meet someone." He took Esmeralda's hand, turning her to face the maid. "This woman's name is not Agnes, despite pretending it was for the past five years."

"What? Who is she?"

"Mr Grafton, please – not yet! We don't know how she'll react!"

Hamish held a hand up to the woman, turning back to face Esmeralda. "Darling, this is Estrella." He paused dramatically as Esmeralda's eyes widened. "Your long-lost twin sister."

Remus groaned, slumping back further into the comfortable dip in Rosmerta's old couch. "Turn it off," he wailed, his face in his hands. "Make it stop."

Rosmerta rolled her eyes and shushed him. "Quit ruining my programme."

"It's got so dreadful lately!" he complained, ignoring her. "I've enough melodrama in my life, thanks. I don't need Esmeralda and Estrella making it worse. Plus–" he sat up suddenly, throwing an accusing finger at the television set – "that actress was playing Audrey-Lynn not two years ago on the very same show! I don't know how they think we wouldn't notice."

"Shut _up_." Rosmerta flapped her hands as Remus continued to talk over Esmeralda's play at astonishment. When the episode ended a few minutes later, she turned the box off and sat back in her armchair, tilting her head at Remus. "All right, drama queen. What's got your kit in a snit this time?"

He opened his mouth.

"And if you say _Severus Snape_," she warned, "I'm chucking you out without cake."

He closed it, throwing her a scowl.

She sighed. "He's _still_ bothering you?"

"He is completely insufferable," said Remus, slumping further down the couch. "As if I haven't enough to deal with." He waved his hand in the air. "Poor Harry has graduated to nearly killing himself from shock whenever those Dementors come 'round, the horrible bastards, and I feel so miserable lately that I told him I can't help him with his Patronus till after Christmas." He counted off on his fingers. "That Wolfsbane is fine for transformations but is wreaking absolute havoc on my skin; and those Hufflepuff sons of bitches still think it's utterly hilarious to make cock-sucking gestures at me whenever I walk by." He pulled the quilt further up to cover his shoulders and pouted. "And I'm cold," he announced.

"Well, I don't know if it's the Wolfsbane, but something is putting you in a right strop after the full moon, if even Esmeralda's tricks can't cheer you up today."

Remus coughed, feeling his forehead. "I think I have a fever."

"You don't have a fever."

"Maybe I'm dying! Then what would you do?"

"I'd watch _Forbidden Passion_ with Dumbledore," she said flatly, arching her brow.

"You'd miss me." He narrowed his eyes.

"Not in the slightest."

Remus considered this. "Really?"

"Lately, you are turning into exactly what Snape says you are." She leaned forward. "A whinging, prancing drama queen."

Remus pouted. "I am not."

"Since when do you let a man get to you like this? What do you care what Snape thinks of you?"

"I don't." Remus snuggled the quilt up to his chin, considering. "I'm just in a dry spell, and he's the only man my age in the immediate vicinity." He scowled. "Just my luck."

"Well, if _that's _your only problem, then you might be interested in a tidbit I picked up at the bar this afternoon."

Remus raised a brow. "I would like a piece of cake to go with my tidbit."

Rosmerta shot him a look, but eventually rose from her chair. "Fucking queen," she muttered as she headed to the kitchen. "I'll expect double your ab crunches once your bones are mended next week," she called.

Remus gave a pronounced cough, batting his eyelashes when she returned with a slice. "Thank you," he said with a flirty smile, and she smacked him lightly on the arm. He took a bite and moaned around the fork, closing his eyes. "Ah. Brilliant. All right." He glanced up at her. "What's your tidbit?"

Grinning at him as she tucked her legs underneath her in the armchair, she murmured, "Charlie Weasley's in town this weekend."

Remus paused, his fork in mid-air. "Oh?"

"Mm-hm."

"I see." He licked a dollop of chocolate from the fork, letting his tongue linger just a little too long. "You know, I might just be feeling better."

She shook her head. "Why am I not surprised?"

He finished the cake and stood, throwing the quilt off dramatically. "If he's in town and not at Flanery's tonight, I shall eat my hat," he decided. "Now. What should I wear?"

"Not blue," she said reflexively, dragging her finger through the leftover chocolate on the plate. "What? You look dreadful in blue."

"I look brilliant in blue!"

She shook her head. "Wear red. That t-shirt with the tight sleeves. You know, dragon-coloured."

He laughed, leaning down to kiss her cheek as he headed for the door.

"Call me in the morning!" she called after him.

"Not a chance. You go get laid yourself," he called back, and she grumbled, scooping up another stray bit of cake with her finger.

"Yeah, easier said than done."

*

Severus wandered up the lane at nearly a crawl, savouring every step that took him further from Hogwarts. It was a wintry Saturday morning, cold and bright the way he preferred, with just enough bite in the air to keep him sharp and just enough snow falling to the ground to fill in the footprints he left. Moreover, Hogsmeade wasn't overrun today with snot-nosed children spending their first Sickles without their mums holding their hands. That was reason enough to celebrate.

He collected his regular items from the local shops, hesitated outside the back entrance to the Hog's Head for a moment before deciding it was possibly too early in the day for the sort of activities he might enjoy in the back rooms there, and then proceeded to the Three Broomsticks. Well, if the Hogwarts students weren't out in force today, he could probably enjoy a pint of cider in peace and – oh, sod his self-imposed chastity for the morning – maybe even convince that busty barmaid to join him in the supply cabinet for a moment or two.

He almost smiled at the thought.

"Morning, Professor," she greeted him with a warm smile when he entered, gesturing for him to take a seat at the bar. "Good to see you up in the village."

Snape gave a non-committal _hmph_ as he seated himself and unwound his scarf. He ordered a cider and debated being more polite, but women seemed to appreciate his stoic silence in ways that men did not – his first signal that he would never have anything in common with that idiot, Lupin – and so he sat quietly at the bar, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

After a few moments of her wiping the counters, refilling various bottles and serving the few customers deigning to come in on a Saturday morning, she turned to him. "You don't know my name, do you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He thought for a moment. "No," he admitted. "Should I?"

She shrugged, sauntering towards him. "If you're going to keep staring at my chest, it might be polite to learn it." She narrowed her eyes at him, leaning against the bar in a way that pushed her breasts together. It was useless even trying not to stare.

"Very well." He raised his eyes to hers with effort. "What's your name, then?"

"Ooh, an honest one!" She laughed. "Most men I say that to get all in a huff. 'Oh no, madam, I would never disrespect a beautiful woman like that!'" She rolled her eyes. "We have a friend in common, though, Professor Snape, and my loyalty to him is worth a bit more than my loyalty to you. So you can get those ideas out of your head right now, and you can pay me five Sickles for the cider."

He held her gaze for another few seconds before smirking, reaching in his pocket for the coins. "And who is this friend? I should like to know who to hold responsible for ruining what might have been a very favourable afternoon for us."

"Ah!" She caught something out of the corner of her eye and turned. "Here he is now, in fact. Oh. No, never mind." She turned back to Severus, blushing and trying to change the subject to potions. He moved his head to look over her shoulder.

There, Remus bloody Lupin was emerging from the staircase that led to the inn's upstairs rooms, and he wasn't alone.

"You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I was quite the potions student back at school," the woman was blathering, but Snape couldn't listen to her. His attention was fixated on Lupin.

As he watched, Lupin huddled in the darkened bottom of the stairwell with a muscular, ginger-haired man, sliding his fingers up the man's chest, neck and up into his hair as he pulled him in for a series of kisses. The man's big hand came around to grip Lupin's arse, squeezing it as Lupin laughed against his mouth and murmured something that made the man groan. They stayed nestled together for several more minutes before fully emerging into the main room of the pub, and Snape suddenly wished he had the power of invisibility.

"Morning, Rosie," sang Lupin. He released the man's hand and waved as he headed to the exit. A Weasley, Severus could see now. His spine tensed as Lupin turned back to the barmaid. "You will not believe how good that man is at– oh. Ah, good morning, Severus."

Severus gave him a curt nod before draining his cider and rising from his stool. "Lupin."

"I– that was– I mean to say–" Lupin fumbled with a series of half-finished sentences, a flush rising on his cheeks, before he finally dug his hands in his pockets and gave Severus a searching look. "Go on, then," he said quietly. "Say it. I'm ready."

Severus blinked at him. "Say what?" He gazed at Lupin's tight t-shirt, wondering why he'd never seen him in red before and how it could possibly look so brilliant on such a pale man, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Severus angrily chased it off. "That you've ruined my morning with your disgusting display?" He gestured back towards the stairwell. "Well, you _have_, but your sex life is hardly my concern."

Lupin leaned a hip against the bar. "Glad to hear it. And as this is one of the only places in town where the proprietor _doesn't_ consider my display 'disgusting'–" he favoured the barmaid with a smile – "perhaps you should drink elsewhere on weekend mornings."

"You do this every weekend?" asked Severus before he could stop himself, biting down hard on his tongue after.

Lupin regarded him. "No," he said. "That was the first time in awhile, in fact." Lupin's softened expression perplexed Severus, and he lifted his chin as a defence mechanism. "You know, Severus," he began, still giving Severus a curious look, "if there's anything you're wondering about, you can ask me. Anything about... what I might do at the weekend, or what other gay men might do."

Severus clenched his jaw. "And _why_ would I want to ask you anything about that?"

Still radiating that damn sense of calm – clearly post-coital, Severus thought with irritation – Lupin smiled at him. "To ease your misconceptions. Not that I'm dying to share my private life with you, but I'd rather answer your questions honestly than have you cling to assumptions that only fuel your hate."

Severus nearly took a step backwards from the strength of the words. Hate. He had spent the best years of his life trying to bring down Voldemort and his band of hate-mongering followers. How dare Lupin accuse him of harbouring any of the same prejudices as those sorts of people? Visions of Lupin and the Weasley man kissing in that stairwell sprang to life in Severus's mind – the flirty way Lupin had smiled at him, the slow path of exploring fingers over the man's throat, and seared in Severus's mind: the tight grip of the Weasley's hand over Lupin's arse. His mouth suddenly going dry, Severus dug in his pocket and flung more coins at the bar, striding off towards the door. "Good day, Lupin," he sneered, his mind still reeling too much to come up with a proper insult – which only angered him further.

He strode out of the pub and stomped down the lane, despising Lupin even more for ruining his perfect Saturday morning.

*

"Bloody, buggering–" Snape entered the lab and froze, his fingers clenched around two sizeable phials of clear liquid. "What are you doing in here? Get away from there at _once_."

Glancing up at him, Remus furrowed his brow. "What? I just thought I'd stop by to help." All the same, he obediently dropped his hand from the ladle.

Snape squeezed his eyes shut. "Tell me you did not just stir that."

Remus blinked, considering his options. "I– well. Do you want me to tell you that, or do you want the truth?"

"Lupin!" bellowed Snape, casting his gaze up at the ceiling. "You stupid, bloody–"

"What?" cried Remus. "I was just checking on it! It can't do any harm to give it one little stir! Oh." Remus's mouth fell shut. "I– okay." He scratched at his forehead. "So, potions was never my strong suit."

"One little stir," whispered Snape, his voice deathly quiet. He placed the phials on his desk and moved towards Remus, one careful step at a time. "_One little stir?_"

"Severus, come now, it can't be all that–"

"Do you have any idea why most potion brewers are not up to making Wolfsbane?" Snape asked quietly, but Remus kept his mouth shut. "Because they, like you, are incapable of leaving it _alone_. Everyone in the bloody world: see something in a pot, got to give it a stir." His eyes flashed, and Remus cowered a little bit by the cauldron.

"I'm sorry, Severus. You're right; I shouldn't have touched it."

Snape stopped in front of the cauldron and peered over the side, his eyes narrowing further. "How many times did you stir it?" he barked.

"Um. Two and a bit."

Snape glanced up. "How much of a bit?"

Remus looked around, grabbing a clean ladle from the workbench and taking hold of it. He tried to replicate the stirring action, frowning. "Maybe a quarter turn?"

Snape glared at him. "Maybe," he said flatly. "_Maybe_. You are willing to risk your own health and the safety of everyone in this castle for _maybe_ a quarter turn." He closed his eyes. "Bloody hell."

"Okay, well, we've established that I'm an idiot."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Can nothing be done to fix it?"

Cracking an eye open, Snape considered the cauldron. "Blue," he pronounced after a moment. "You've turned it blue four hours early. No. It cannot be fixed. This batch is ruined." He gave Remus his full glare again, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "I hope you have a cell to stay in come full moon this month. I hear Azkaban is quite comfortable in winter."

Remus pressed his lips together. "Now, Severus," he began, his mind racing. "You would not be such a skilled potions master if you didn't know how to fix this."

Snape neither agreed with him nor offered a retort, which Remus took to be an encouraging sign. Remus let the words hang between them and fell silent again to allow Snape room to think. After a few minutes, during which time Snape's eyes had darted back and forth and his brow had creased as though he were performing mental calculations, he gave a grumbling sigh.

"I must reconstruct the chemical reactions of the missed four hours manually," he decided. "Instead of allowing the potion to evolve organically, I can duplicate what was missed."

"Good!" Remus broke out in a grin. "That's it, then! Thank you, Severus. I do appreciate it."

"I hope you have no plans for the next four hours."

Remus paused in his celebration, meeting Snape's eyes. "Ah, well." He glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven p.m. What on _earth_ had convinced him to stop by the potions lab at this hour? No. He pushed that question out of his mind. Best not to dwell on what he had been thinking – or hoping. "Nothing besides sleeping."

"I suspect you will agree that this is more important. Sit." He pointed at a bench attached to the side wall. "And do _not_ touch anything."

For twenty minutes, Remus sat quietly and watched as Snape made some calculations in a notebook, measured several new ingredients and added them bit by bit to the cauldron. He watched as Snape handled the ladle, cradling it delicately between his thumb and forefinger as he stirred, where Remus had always grabbed it roughly, like he did a broomstick. He watched as Snape alternately inhaled the potion and covered his face from its fumes, his eyes always intensely focused. And he watched as Snape allowed the barest hint of pleasure and satisfaction to show on his face when he was finished, gazing into the cauldron with bright eyes, his lips parted expectantly.

Remus caught himself mirroring Snape's expression as _he_ watched Snape, and _Snape_ watched the potion, each with equal caution and fascination. Smiling sheepishly to himself, Remus ran a hand over his face. Finally, Snape nodded at Remus and exhaled, his shoulders releasing a world of tension.

"All right?" ventured Remus.

"For now," grumbled Snape as he plunked down beside Remus on the bench.

"Now what?"

Snape glanced sideways at him. "Now, we wait."

"Ah." Remus considered this. "What are we waiting for?"

Snape's jaw tightened. "We are waiting for the house-elves to bring us fish and chips," he snapped.

Remus almost smiled. "So, we'll just wait and see if the cauldron explodes, then?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Look who's decided to become a genius at potions."

"Prick."

"Idiot."

Remus did smile at that. It was better than some other words Snape might have chosen, after all.

"I still don't trust you, you know," added Snape, stretching his legs out and running a weary hand through his hair. Remus watched him, a bit bewildered by the oddly casual gesture and the slight change in topic.

"I don't trust you, either," said Remus lightly, turning back to the cauldron, but he felt Snape's head snap towards him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded. "I've done nothing to you. _You're_ the one who–"

"Nothing?" Remus glanced back again, determined not to lose his temper. He was tired of fighting. "We will just have to agree that our ideas on that differ considerably, Severus."

"I do not trust that you have not been helping a convicted murderer break into this castle and put all of us in danger," said Snape in a low voice. "I do not trust you not to put those children at risk yourself from your own stupidity during a transformation," he continued, "and moreover, I do not trust you not to keep your... _personal affairs_ away from this school and away from these children."

Remus took a deep breath, lifting his chin. "I see. May I respond?"

Glancing sideways at him in evident surprise at his cordiality, Snape nodded.

"First, we have been over this: I am not helping Sirius. If you recall, the last time he did anything to put you in danger, I owned up to it and sought his punishment myself. I am not loyal to friends who don't deserve it. Second: so long as you don't sabotage the Wolfsbane, it is even safer for me to teach here than it was for me to attend as a student, before we had the potion. I'm sure Dumbledore has told you the exact same thing." He leaned forward. "And as for my personal affairs, as you call them, I assume you are referring to the fact that I am openly gay. No need to cloak it in euphemisms, Severus. Let's speak frankly for once."

Snape made a small noise of neither approval nor dissent, and Remus continued.

"I sincerely hope you're not suggesting that my being gay is any reason to fear for the safety of these children. Even the Muggles, for all their backwardness, have _mostly_," he added with a wince, "found that argument to be illogical and absurd. A gay man is no more likely to molest a child than is a man with brown hair or webbed toes."

"I did not say that you were apt to _molest_ them. Dear God," muttered Snape.

"That's what you meant, though, isn't it?" Remus shrugged. "It's all right, Severus. Perhaps you should tell me about more of your assumptions, so that I can debunk them all. We've all night, after all. It's about time someone educated you a little bit."

"Educated me?" Snape's eyes flashed at him. "How dare you?"

"Oh. You've all the answers, then?" asked Remus cheerfully. "Well, that's a relief. I'm rather tired of educating the macho idiots of the world about my life. It gets repetitive when one has to do it every single day." He gave Snape a pointed look.

Snape opened his mouth to respond but then closed it, scrutinising Remus.

Surprised not to have Snape offer another quick retort, Remus decided to press his advantage. "I suppose it might be something like trying to explain to these children's parents, or to shop clerks in Diagon Alley, that you really are a good person, after they've seen the Dark Mark on your arm." He paused. "Although, no, that's not quite the right analogy, is it?" He pursed his lips, thinking.

"No, because you've no idea what I've been through in the Dark Lord's service," muttered Snape. "It's hardly akin to anything you've encountered at one of your queer dance clubs."

"No, that's not why." He gazed over at Snape, waiting until the man returned his look. When he did, Remus spoke slowly, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he would finally get through to Snape. "It's because when you took the Dark Mark, it was your choice."

Again, Snape took in a breath and opened his mouth to respond, but then his face softened and he tilted his head to the side, staring at Remus. "You _choose_ to wear this ridiculous attire," he said after a long moment, gesturing at Remus, but the bite had gone out of his voice.

"I suppose that's true," allowed Remus, "but my attraction to men instead of women is not directly related to my clothing, and _that_ is something I cannot help any more than I can help being a werewolf."

"You were _converted_ to being a werewolf," Snape pointed out immediately before Remus could correct himself, and he winced.

"Yes, you're right." He snorted back a laugh. "So, my analogies are all bollocks. You see the point I'm trying to make, though."

Snape huffed. "Perhaps. Albus has tried to make a similar point to me." He paused. "I am naturally attracted to women, and you are naturally attracted to men." The words seemed to pain him, but Remus gave him some credit for pushing them through his lips at all. "Very well. It doesn't mean we have to like each other."

"I'm glad you're coming around, Severus." Against his better judgement, Remus leaned over and knocked Snape gently with his shoulder, earning a scowl.

"No touching."

Remus laughed, reaching for the inside pocket of his robes. He pulled out a tiny flask and, smiling conspiratorially, enlarged and uncapped it. He took a drink and passed it to Snape, wiping at his mouth. "Ah. Well, if we're to be here all night, might as well make it bearable."

Snape looked scandalised. "Lupin, we are monitoring a tremendously complex potion. I hardly think alcohol would be a good idea."

"It's not Draught of the Living Death, Severus," said Remus with a roll of his eyes. "Just a bit of whisky. It'll keep us sharp – not to mention cordial to each other, I'd wager. I'd rather not spend the night fighting with you."

Shaking his head, Snape took the flask and tipped it to his lips. When he finished, he handed it back and nearly smirked. "Why, we've been speaking cordially for an entire four minutes, Lupin. What more could you ask for?"

"You never asked me why I don't trust you."

Snape paused. "Ah." He pressed his lips together. "So we're still talking about all of this. Very well." He took a deep breath, speaking in a bored voice. "Why don't you trust me, Lupin?"

"Because you were such a raging prick to me back at school." Remus took another long drink, fortifying himself. Now that they were talking, he bloody well wanted some answers.

Snape's eyes widened. "_I_ was a prick? I seem to recall being hauled up by my ankle more times than I care to remember by those friends of yours."

"Everyone was hauling everyone else up by the ankle that year, Severus; surely you remember that. And yes, James and Sirius were born pranksters, and sure, I took part when I was feeling mischievous enough. But you were my main target only because I wanted revenge on you so badly."

"What on _earth_ did I ever do to you?" Snape's face had taken on some colour, either from outrage or the alcohol, and to his surprise, Remus found that it suited him.

"'Filthy faggot,'" Remus whispered, intending to carry on a normal conversation but finding his voice nearly gone at the very thought of those words. He swallowed and pressed on. "'Arse-bandit.' 'Queer.' 'Shirt-lifter.' 'Banana planter.' That one was a favourite." He paused. "I meant what I said at the Welcoming Feast, you know – although I'm not proud of letting my anger make me lose my temper in front of our colleagues. I apologise to you for that. But I was terrified to go to the third-floor loo after Charms for most of sixth-year, you know, because you and Mulciber and Avery were waiting for me every single time, ready with some awful comment about loos and arses and fucking boys." His voice began to waver, and Remus took a deep breath, trying to hold the flask still.

By the time he had quieted the roaring in his ears and regained control of himself at the emotional memories, he realised Snape had not responded with a quick retort, or indeed any comment at all. He glanced over to find Snape frowning, his arms folded protectively over his chest and his legs still stretched out in front of him. He crossed his ankles and cleared his throat. "My father was a man who did not suffer fools," he began quietly, and Remus held his breath.

He had never heard Snape talk about any of his family before, and he was willing to wager that very few others had heard it, either.

"He also believed that most everyone in the world _was_ a fool. You might see the resemblance," he added dryly, and Remus smiled. "He was a Muggle," Snape continued, his mouth turning down, "and had very little use for anything magical. My mother and I were forbidden from using magic in the house."

Although taken aback by this, Remus resisted the urge to interrupt. Silently, he passed Snape the flask again, which he accepted with a nod, drinking deeply.

"When I was six years old, he took me to a football match. Armthorpe Welfare and some other; I can't recall anymore. We won." He swallowed. "He pointed at the pitch and said to me, 'Forget about that bollocks with magic, boy. You want to grow up to be like _that_, a real man. Not some nancy wizard.'"

Snape's voice had remained even through the recitation, his accent unchanged, but Remus felt a tremor underneath it and could almost hear Snape's father's midland clip over the words.

"When my mother insisted I go to Hogwarts instead of the local school, he was... displeased." Snape cleared his throat. "Well, you can imagine the sort of hijinks that ensued between us, I'm sure." He took another long drink before passing the flask back to Remus, his face tight.

Remus only nodded, still afraid to interrupt. He held up a hand to refuse the flask.

"Every Christmas and every summer holiday for seven years, when I came home, he would start right in on me. 'Filthy wizard faggot.' 'Nancy wizard queer.'" He pronounced each word with aching slowness and precision, and Remus's stomach churned. "Let me see," he continued, gazing wistfully up at the ceiling. "What were some of the others? Oh yes: 'skirt-lifting pillow biter' was a favourite. That was in reference to our robes," he added, glancing sideways at Lupin, "although if one were to examine the mechanics of it, I don't think lifting a skirt would necessarily result in the biting of a pillow? But perhaps I'm not as well-versed in such matters as he thought I was."

"It would be possible, I suppose," offered Remus thoughtfully, "if the skirt – or robe, as it happened – was worn _by_ the pillow biter, in which case he could easily be tipped over towards the pillow and his arse exposed under the skirt?" He sighed. "It's an unnecessarily complicated way to put it, though, I have to say."

Snape nodded, taking another pull on the flask.

"You always were tremendously colourful with your insults," added Remus cautiously.

"Thank you," replied Snape with a nod, staring straight ahead. "I learned from the best."

They were quiet for a long moment, gazing at Snape's workbench, and Remus felt a sudden warmth steal over him. He tried several times to find the right thing to say and failed, deciding instead to simply embrace this moment, sitting in relative peace with Severus Snape for once in his life and feeling strangely calm about it. He sneaked a sideways glance at Snape to find he had closed his eyes, still stretched out with his arms folded over his chest and his face tilted up towards the ceiling. He wasn't beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but there was a magnetism to him that Remus couldn't deny. He found he _wanted_ to spend time with this man, talk with him, drink with him and listen to him.

"Severus," he said at last.

"Hm." Snape did not open his eyes.

"Truce?" he asked softly.

Three heartbeats passed, and then Snape did open his eyes, surveying Remus with cautious approval. He nodded once before turning his gaze back up at the ceiling. "Truce."

***

 

**Act III**

The glass shattered in spectacular, melodramatic fashion when Jean-Claude flung it against the wall. Ice cubes and stray drops of gin flew in every direction, and Portia cowered behind her hands.

"When you're done with your temper tantrum," she informed him coldly as she recovered and straightened her tailored jacket, "you might thank me for my information." She placed a manicured hand on one hip and glared at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks a lot," grumbled Jean-Claude. "That's just what I wanted to hear: my own goddamned kid in the hands of the Grafton family. Bloody buggering–"

"Now, now. _Language_, my dear. Don't tell me you actually believe that nonsense about Esmeralda?" Portia stepped closer to him, raising a plucked eyebrow. "If that woman is actually pregnant at her age, then I must be the queen of the fairy people." She tinkled out a laugh.

"I didn't touch her," he said gruffly, folding his thick arms over his chest. "I don't care what that bird says, that sperm was supposed to stay frozen for fifteen years. That was our agreement." He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned down. "Hamish Grafton will regret the day he ever let that lying piece of work back into his house."

Portia laid a hand over Jean-Claude's forearm and leaned close to him. "And he'll regret the day he ever left _me_ in order to put that two-bit whore in his will. I think it's time we introduced ourselves to Estrella, don't you?" She suppressed a smile but batted her eyelashes at him, and Jean-Claude hesitated only a moment before nodding.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Long past time."

"Oh, Portia, quit your scheming!" said Remus with a stamp of his foot. "It's a beautiful winter day, and Jean-Claude is wearing the red bandana, nnnrg, and not even your stupid problems with Hamish can ruin my mood today." He grinned and stretched his arms up, dropping them on top of his head as Rosmerta shot him a questioning glance.

"Well, aren't you just sunshine and roses today. You get some cock last night, darling?"

Remus's face fell a little bit. "No, alas." He sighed. "Too knackered most nights. This teaching business is ridiculous. At least five classes a day, all wanting essays graded and lesson plans done up in advance and what not." He waved a hand. "Not to mention Harry, who insists I teach him terribly advanced protective spells against the Dementors."

His bright mood sobered for a moment as he thought of Harry. It was almost painful to interact with the boy, Remus had found since their first encounter on the Hogwarts Express in September. He looked so much like James and Lily and sounded so much like Sirius in his insistence on rule-breaking, that Remus had to take extra precautions to preserve his own mental health. After the weekly lessons with Harry, Remus found he had to retire early, with a bit of focused meditation and sometimes a Calming draught.

It didn't help that when he'd admitted that he'd known Harry's parents – leaving unstated the fact that they had been closer than family at one point – Harry's gaze had quickly dropped to take in Remus's attire, in that telltale look Remus had long ago grown accustomed to from people who would never believe him capable of having _normal_ relationships with _normal_ people. He should probably have a more honest talk with Harry at some point, but he didn't feel up to it just yet.

It wasn't quite his place, he felt, to tell the boy that his own father had seen Remus's pierced nipple one afternoon and insisted on doing the same himself.

Remus smiled at the memory, glancing up to find Rosmerta watching him.

"Wait a second," she said slowly. "I know why you're in such a good mood."

He looked at her expectantly, and she leaned forward as if sleuthing for signs of something in his expression.

"You haven't whinged about Snape in nearly a month," she said accusingly.

Remus tried to keep the grin off his face but failed. He shrugged. "We've decided to call a halt to hostilities."

She squinted at him. "I don't believe you."

"We did! He's really not that bad," he insisted, "and he hasn't called me a faggot in weeks, so, I'm giving him _some_ points for that."

"Pushover." She smiled at him. "You like him. Wait. You _really _like him. Remus! I told you to find a way to get on with the man, not fall for him! Jesus fucking Christ. You are in for one bleeding heartache, you know that?"

"Pipe down. I'm not in _love_ with him. I don't think. He's just... He's different than I thought he'd be, now that we're actually talking like civilised adults."

"And you think you can trust him, be friends with him, after how he's treated you?"

"Every man deserves a second chance. And as long as he's being civil to me, I won't hold a grudge."

"A second chance," she said flatly, eyeing him. "I think it's more than that."

"He's straight, Rosmerta," said Remus, shooting her a withering look. "You told me yourself that he comes in here and stares at your tits." He raised a brow at her, grinning. "Maybe you should give him a go one of these days. Tell me what it's like."

"See!" exclaimed Rosmerta. "You _do_ want to know!"

"I do not!" protested Remus. "God, you are impossible, woman. I'm not an idiot. We're friends. Sort of." He pressed his lips together. "It's nothing more than that."

But that wasn't precisely true, and Remus knew it. Ever since the night they had watched over the Wolfsbane together, Remus had been unable to stop thinking about Snape. It was the worst possible mistake he could make, falling for not only a colleague but a confirmed straight man _and_ homophobe, but his heart didn't seem to want to listen to reason. He found himself staring at Snape's long fingers at meals, searching the corridors for his billowing robes between classes and finding excuses to pass by the entrance to the dungeons hoping to hear his voice.

It was stupid, insane, and Rosmerta was right: it could only end badly. But for the time being, it also wasn't doing either of them any harm, so Remus allowed himself the indulgence.

*

He wrote them down.

He _wrote them down_. On a regular piece of parchment. Like a trained monkey. God and buggering fuck, the sheer, brash _stupidity_ of Gryffindors would never cease to amaze him. Severus barged into the staff room behind the others, doing a quick head count and murmuring the number to Dumbledore as the door swung closed behind them.

Wrote them _down_.

He clenched his jaw and took deep breaths through his nose, but his rage would not dissipate. His gaze immediately flew to Lupin, who was standing against the far wall with his hands in his pockets, a frown etching his features but otherwise not looking, in Severus's opinion, nearly as ashamed as a guilty man should.

"As you have no doubt heard by now from several of the portraits," Dumbledore began, his voice weary but with his customary underlying strength, "Sirius Black once again entered the castle tonight."

After a few quick gasps and murmurs, the room fell deathly silent.

"He got even further than he did last time," continued Dumbledore, "making it all the way _into_ Gryffindor Tower, _and_ up to Harry Potter's dormitory room."

"Headmaster!" cried Trelawney, clutching at her chest. "The boy is as good as dead! We all are!"

Several more murmurs broke out at that, and Severus had to restrain himself from hexing her.

"How did he do it?" several of them exclaimed, and Dumbledore proceeded to explain it to them as he had to Severus moments before. When he was finished, Lupin cleared his throat.

"I will speak with Neville," he said quietly. "He'll be feeling terrible right now for leaving the passwords out."

Severus stared at him. "Terrible?" he croaked. "Is that all? Well, we don't want Longbottom feeling _terrible_, do we? You're right, Lupin; you had better speak with him. In fact, why don't the two of you have a full Gryffindor tête-à-tête, whereby you both conspire as to the best ways to put the rest of us in as much danger as possible?"

"He's thirteen, Severus," said Lupin, his voice calm but edged with fire. "He made a mistake."

"Oh, don't you think for one bloody _second_ that any of us believe that," said Severus coldly. "Yes, he's thirteen. Helping a man like Black into the castle seems an awfully big responsibility for a mere thirteen-year-old to pull off successfully, wouldn't you agree?"

"Severus," warned Dumbledore, and despite the rage crashing through him, Severus sealed his lips and contented himself, for the moment, with glaring daggers at Lupin.

After setting the rest of the staff to various tasks to prepare the castle for lockdown, Dumbledore dismissed them. They hurried off, and Dumbledore shot a clear, icy glare at Severus.

"Remus," said Dumbledore calmly. "A word, if you will."

His lip curling in triumph, Severus shot Lupin a filthy look as he left to secure the lower floors.

Storming through the castle after the staff room door had fallen shut behind him, Severus let his rage slowly uncoil. That lying bloody bastard. All this time, Lupin had hoodwinked both Dumbledore and now Severus himself into believing that he wasn't responsible for helping Black with the first break-in in October, and now here they were again, in exactly the same situation. It was just too convenient to be coincidence, and Severus was almost disappointed at Lupin's sloppiness. He liked to think the man more intelligent than that, despite his choice of friends.

Now that they had become courteous to each other, even civil, he had to admit that Lupin was not the blithering idiot he'd assumed. The man could still be described as nothing less than a raging bloody queen, but that had ceased to bother Severus as much as it once did. Lupin had a quick wit and could hold his whisky better than anyone Severus had ever met – one benefit of the werewolf blood, Severus imagined. He also had a host of stories from his time on the continent that Severus had found satisfactorily engaging – at least enough to listen to them over wine one or two evenings a week lately.

He didn't want to believe Lupin had done this, but there was no way around it.

He had set a course for his quarters once the security measures were in place, determined to get very, very drunk and strip all memories of any cordial bonding with Remus fucking Lupin from his mind, when he remembered that they had drained the last of his whisky over the weekend. After some deliberation, Severus returned upstairs and headed for the staff room, hoping to pilfer a bottle from the cupboard if Minerva had left any after the Christmas party.

Shoving the door open and storming inside, he almost missed the shadowed figure sitting alone in one of the stiff-backed chairs, until bright eyes snapped up to meet his.

*

Oh, _Neville_. Bloody hell. Remus rubbed at his eyes and collapsed into a chair in the staff room after Dumbledore left, his mind reeling. Dumbledore still seemed to believe that Remus hadn't been in contact with Sirius, but the trust was fragile and on the verge of collapse, should anything like this happen again. The way Dumbledore had looked at him... not to mention the way _Snape_ had looked at him. God. It was almost unbearable to be the object of such suspicion and distrust.

He felt unclean, judged as much for who he was as for anything he might have done. It all came tumbling back, those two things he couldn't change that always led others to assume the worst about his morals: he was a werewolf, and he was queer. The fact that he might have been friends with Sirius Black at some point seemed to take a backseat to the first two on the list of potential motivations for his alleged treachery. Snape's trust had been so hard-won in the first place, Remus felt sick at the thought that he'd lost it.

Worse, if Snape never spoke to him again after this, Remus knew it would be more than his cautious friendship he would miss. Their occasional, if not frequent, late nights of drinking and storytelling had become the highlights of Remus's social life. Against all odds, and against Rosmerta's sage advice, Remus felt himself drawn to Snape in ways he knew would only end badly. But he couldn't help the way he felt.

Just as Remus was debating mining the cupboards for any extra liquor from the Christmas party, the door swung open and Snape stormed through. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Remus.

"Plotting your next move, are you?" he sneered. "Good luck getting any messages to Black now that we're onto you," he added, folding his arms over his chest. "Nothing is getting out of this castle."

"I've not been sending him any messages," said Remus wearily, running a hand over his face. "I don't know how many times I can keep telling you that. He's betrayed me just as much as any of you."

"_Liar_," breathed Snape, and Remus felt a cold trickle down his spine.

"I'm not," he said simply, rising from the chair to face Snape head-on. "Not about this, at least. You know all the things I lie about, Severus, and you know _why_ I lie about them. You know everything about me, oddly enough." He almost laughed at the irony.

"You've done nothing but lie to me since you got here."

Remus shook his head sadly. "You know that's not true. I lie when I have to, but never to you. Not anymore."

Snape's eyes flashed. "Why should I believe you?" he thundered. "Why should I believe anything you say after that?"

Remus hesitated for only a few seconds, searching Snape's face with his own pleading eyes, but Snape wore the same mask as always. There was only one way to find out if Remus's feelings were – or could ever be – mutual. He grabbed a fistful of Snape's robes and pulled him close, slamming his mouth down over Snape's. For the first few seconds, the adrenaline of it made Remus's fingertips tingle and white heat race down his spine. Snape tasted gorgeous, the very nearness of his breath washing over Remus and making him want to moan. But after the initial thrill, he realised with a sickening twist of his stomach that Snape's lips were tight against his, closed and unyielding, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Snape staring back at him, wide-eyed with shock.

_Oh, holy Jesus_.

With a great shove, Snape launched Remus several paces back, wiping angrily at his mouth. "Have you lost your bloody mind?" he sputtered.

Shame and humiliation creeping up his body and settling like a lead weight in his chest, Remus continued to back away. "I–"

"Get out of here," spat Snape, his face murderous as he took another swipe over his stained lips.

Remus had been with plenty of men in the past. Some had been open queens like him; some had been closeted and mostly straight-acting. Others might have thought they were straight, but with a few drinks and a well-timed invitation from him, soon agreed that variety was the spice of life. Snape fit none of those descriptions, though – not even the last one, as Remus might have hoped. That kiss had not ended with Snape melting in Remus's arms, confessing that he had always been curious, always found Remus attractive. It had ended in an anger and disgust Remus had only seen in his worst enemies before – the kind of men who would actively seek out and hurt men like him.

His stomach churning and his face on fire, he turned on his heel and fled.

*

Severus wiped angrily at his mouth for another five minutes before he could even think to move from where he had been standing. That stupid, bloody _faggot_. A black rage crept up his spine even as his lips continued to tingle – from _scrubbing_ at them, he reminded himself, not from anything else.

Without sparing another moment's thought, he strode from the room, stalking through to the main foyer of the castle. Fucking lockdown. He paused at the doors, grasping the steel of the spelled beams in one hand and pressing his forehead against it. His heart was racing and his mind kept flashing back to Lupin's pained face leaning in towards him. Desperate times. Dumbledore would understand. He aimed his wand at the side door and lifted the locks, sliding them back in place once he was outside. From there, he continued across the grounds, pausing only at the gate to take a few breaths and run the back of his hand over his tainted lips again.

In another few moments, he threw open the door of the Hog's Head and with barely a nod towards the smirking bartender, he crossed through to the private door at the back and slipped through it. Lenora glanced up from her elegant table, where she had been flipping idly through a magazine and smoking a cigarette.

"Well, well, well," she drawled when she saw Severus. "Fancy seeing you again, Professor. Who'll it be tonight, then?"

"Don't care," croaked Severus, balling his hands into fists, and Lenora raised a plucked eyebrow. She paused to pick a piece of tobacco from her tongue before apparently deciding not to tease him any further.

"Carlotta's free," she murmured, gesturing to the hallway behind her lined with doors. "Knock six times, slowly, and she'll know I approved you. That'll be a hundred up front," she added, as he made to sweep past her. "Any extra charges you incur'll be added on at the end. Sign here, and you agree that our magical protection spell will be performed automatically when you step through this door here–" she gestured with her head – "and down the hallway."

Swearing under his breath, Severus scrawled his signature, threw a handful of coins on the desk and stormed down the hallway. He briefly felt the trickle of magic wash over him and tried to ignore the trigger of shame that went along with the disinfectant. His gaze brushed over the name plates on each door. When he reached Carlotta's, he knocked as instructed, waited impatiently for her to open the door, and briefly reconsidered when she did. She was ginger-haired and had to be pushing forty, despite the attempt of her make-up to disguise that fact. But her breasts were spilling out of her corset and her bottom looked like it would be satisfying to hold onto, so he entered, told her he needed no small talk, and threw his cloak to the floor.

"Do what you need to do to get yourself ready," he muttered to her. Her eyes blazed at him, but she smiled obediently and climbed onto the bed, immediately reclining, pushing her fancy knickers aside and fingering herself with what he assumed was the aid of lubrication.

"In a bit of a strop tonight, then, love?"

"Show me your breasts," he growled in return, tugging his flies open and crawling forward onto the bed fully clothed. She did as requested, loosening the corset until her breasts spilled out into his hands.

With a moan, he shoved inside her even as his thumbs twisted at her nipples and his fingers squeezed her soft flesh. She arched up into him and wrapped her legs around him, but the gasps she made were all wrong. She was too light, too delicate, soft where he wanted her to be hard and acquiescing where he wanted her to fight him. But she was curvy and womanly and her cunt was tight and wet around him, and as he lowered his lips to her neck, he tried to kiss away the taste of Lupin from his mouth and senses.

He pushed in deep and came inside her with a long groan, secure once more in his heterosexuality. A gay man wouldn't have been able to do this, he reasoned, even as he rose, tucked himself back into his trousers and dropped another coin for her on the bed. A poof like Lupin couldn't even get an erection around a naked woman. Flaming bloody queens like him couldn't get _anyone_ to pay them mind without forcing their disgusting habits onto the rest of the world. As he nodded at Lenora and exited back into the bar and then through to the street, Severus decided that the poofs of the world must only be able to get sex at all by forcing themselves onto unsuspecting men – men who, unlike Severus, did not have the bollocks to fight back.

Well, he'd show Lupin. That pathetic excuse for a man, with his jewellry and his feathery hair and his swing music, would never again catch Severus Snape unawares, pressing his disgusting habits onto Severus. Instinctively, Severus's hand flew to his mouth once more and he rubbed the back of his index finger over his lips, now seeking to erase both Lupin's lingering imprint and Carlotta's sickening perfume.

He arrived back at Hogwarts and stalked down to the dungeons. When he got to his chambers, the fairy queen himself was parked outside his door, looking like a kicked puppy.

"Severus," said Lupin quickly, glancing up from where his gaze had been rooted to the stone floor. "You're here. Good. I've been knocking–" he gestured back at the door – "but assumed you simply weren't going to answer."

"And so you thought you would stay out here all night and let me trip over you in the morning?" grumbled Severus.

Lupin took a step towards him. "About what happened before," he began, but Severus moved past him, unlocking his door and lingering in the doorway. He turned to find Lupin's eyes fixed on him, a desperate expression on his face. For a flicker of a second, he almost wanted to raise his hand and trace his fingers down the side of Lupin's face, just to see if his eyes would close in relief and pleasure, if his expression would crumple in bliss to think that Severus wanted him after all. Squeezing his fingers into a fist at his side instead, he clenched his jaw.

"Nothing happened," he bit out.

Lupin's face did crumple at that, but not in the way Severus had envisioned.

"Absolutely nothing," he continued, watching Lupin's expression shift from disappointment to disbelief. He leaned forward and, against his better judgement, grabbed the front of Lupin's robes, hauling him in and murmuring close to his ear. "And if you ever say anything different, I shall have you fired from this school." He held on a second longer, taking a deep breath and inadvertently inhaling Lupin's scent as he did so. His eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment before he regained control of himself, shoving Lupin away and turning abruptly back to his room.

"Severus–"

Without another word, Severus slammed the door behind him.

*

The rattle of a glass sounded somewhere near Remus's head.

"Go away," he mumbled into his folded arms, his cheek stuck to the grime-coated bar.

"It's a Cosmo," Rosmerta's muffled voice sang, and Remus reluctantly lifted his head to squint at her. He scowled, wiping an unidentified substance from his face and favouring the bar surface with a quick, accusing glare.

"So you've been reading the 'How to Treat Your Gay' column in _Witch Weekly_, I suppose?" He reached for the pink cocktail and took a tentative sip before making a face. "We don't _all_ like Cosmos," he complained. "Gimme a Scotch, woman," he added dramatically, slumping over the bar again. "A real _man_'s drink."

She raised an eyebrow at him even as she reached for the Scotch and poured two fingers. "I take it Snape didn't want to hear your explanation about the passwords?" she asked, pushing the drink towards him.

He drained it as quickly as he could and then began to cough, hitting himself in the chest. "Jesus," he sputtered, scowling at the empty glass. "That is hideous."

"'Real' men have hideous taste," she pointed out, and he almost smiled.

"Point." He sighed. "_No_, he didn't want to hear my explanation. He just kept insisting he didn't believe me." He shook his head. "He won't believe anything good about Sirius, not ever. There's just too much bad blood there."

"So the two of you fought?" She leaned down over the bar out of habit, nestling her breasts in her arms. Remus winced, putting up a hand.

"Oh, ew. Could you put the girls away, please?"

She glanced down in surprise, and then rolled her eyes and straightened up again.

"It'll not get you a bigger tip from me," he pointed out. "Save them for old man Larson." He gestured with his head down the bar, where a grizzled old wizard sat nursing his bottle of gin.

"You're avoiding the question." She narrowed her eyes at him, and he stuck his tongue out.

"_Fine_, yes, I am." He sighed again, slumping over further with his head in his hands. "'Fought' isn't quite the right word for it."

She paused. "You– oh, _no_. You did not."

"What?"

"You– _no_." Her eyes wide, she couldn't hide the look of sheer delight on her face at the prospect of such gossip.

"What are you thinking?" he asked in mock surprise.

"_Did_ you?" she breathed. "Wait – did _he_? No! I don't believe it! Severus Snape, bending over for–"

"Oh, God." Remus screwed his eyes shut. "No. No, no, no. Not _that_. Not– fuck. You horrible woman. Now I can't get that image out of my head."

"Oh, like it wasn't there in the first place." She tilted her head to the side.

Remus let his head fall forward again, his voice muffled in his folded arms. "Bugger," he muttered.

She waited for him to continue.

"Fine," he said at last, raising his head and glaring at her. "_Yes_, it was there in the first place, and _no_, I did not just casually stop by and shag the man. For Christ's sake."

"But you did something to him." She planted a hand on one hip, tapping her fingers.

"I kissed him, okay?"

Rosmerta's eyes widened.

"He asked me why he should trust me, why he should believe me that I didn't know about Sirius getting into the castle, and the only bloody answer I could think of was to _kiss_ him, and now he– _God_. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"He didn't throw you onto the bed and ravage you senseless right there and then?" Rosmerta slammed her palm down on the bar. "Then he's a horrible cold fish, in addition to being a horrible man in general."

"He's not horrible; that's the problem. He's _complicated_, is all, and emotionally distant, and terribly prim and proper about sex, I'd wager, and–"

"Straight as an arrow," offered Rosmerta, and Remus glanced up at her, pouting.

"Well, yes. That, too." He paused. "_Fuck_."

"So... I take it he didn't exactly kiss you back?"

Remus shook his head sadly, wincing at the memory. "Worse than that. I mean, I can handle the, _Sorry, I'm not into you_ chat, you know? But this was just total disgust, total horror at me. He looked like he wanted to kill me. And you know that man has killed people before and not thought twice about it." A shiver raced up Remus's spine, and he could barely tell if it was because of the thrill and danger of being attracted to a man like Snape, or actual fear for his life.

She reached for his hand over the bar and squeezed it. "Forget him, love. Listen, I'll catch you up on the show from today, yeah? Your life won't seem nearly as bad when you hear about what Mary Beth did at Grafton Enterprises."

"I can't forget him," moaned Remus, his chin in his hand. He paused, glancing up at her again. "Really? She and Portia fixed the deal? No way."

As Rosmerta filled him in, Remus found he did in fact begin to feel better. He might be in the process of falling for the most inaccessible, despicable man on the planet, but at least he hadn't unknowingly impregnated his twin sister. That had to count for something.

*

Lupin was skulking around him even more than usual, Severus decided. He cast an irritated glance over his shoulder as Lupin fell into step beside him, their boots echoing through the nearly empty hallway.

"Hello," said Lupin awkwardly.

Severus made a face at him and sped up.

"Severus, listen, can you just–"

"Bugger off, Lupin."

"Right, okay. But–"

"Nothing happened!" Severus heard himself blurt out before slamming his mouth closed.

But Lupin stopped walking and grabbed Severus's wrist at that, turning Severus to face him. "It did happen," he began quietly, "and you haven't let me apologise. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

_Uncomfortable_. Severus was a great deal more than uncomfortable about it. He was livid, shocked, horrified. And incredibly uncomfortable. "Don't give yourself so much credit," he grumbled, stalking off.

*

"If all I ever do is come in here and drink, I'm set to become a full-fledged alcoholic before Easter." Remus sat on the barstool and pouted at Rosmerta.

She just shrugged. "Don't ask me to complain. You're single-handedly keeping me in business on Tuesday nights."

"Well, let's see. I've got Harry every Wednesday night, Neville every other Thursday, and the haunting lips of Severus Snape staring at me through my brain every other night besides, so it's really the least I can do to keep the rampant drinking contained to Tuesdays."

She gave him a sympathetic look, and he felt vaguely guilty. He really hadn't paid a tab since... well, probably since 1987. "He's still being a prick about it, then?" she asked.

"I don't know why I thought he'd ever be anything else. You know, Neville came by again last week, and he's just wrecked about losing those passwords." He sighed. "He reminds me so much of myself at that age."

She smiled at him. "I remember you at that age," she said, knocking him gently on the shoulder. "James and Sirius would march in here with their chests puffed out and try to order firewhisky, and you and Peter would shuffle in after them, trying not to blush."

He grinned at the memory.

"But you always looked so sad," she added. "At least for a few more years, before you found your feet."

He nodded, absently rattling the ice in his glass. "I fear it might be the same for Neville. You remember his parents, don't you?"

She sighed. "Of course. Brilliant, the pair of them, and always so bright and chatty when they came in. Absolute tragedy, what happened to them."

"If Neville could just get past his insecurities and, oh, I don't know–" he waved the glass in the air – "embrace life! Be himself!" He sighed again and dropped his glass back down to the bar with a sad _thud_. "He might be able to find success in his life, get what he wants out of it." He contemplated that for another few seconds, his gaze downcast, before sensing Rosmerta's eyes on him. He glanced up. "What?"

"Did you just hear yourself?" she said with a laugh.

"What? It's true! I really think Neville needs to–"

"Not _Neville_. Well, I mean, yes, I agree with you, but how can you give that advice to anyone else when you won't follow it yourself?"

"I am entirely myself!" he protested, taking another drink.

She gave him a pointed look. "Ah. So, you're running and hiding from big, bad Professor Snape every time you see him because that's how you're going to find success in your life and get what you want out of it?"

He scrunched his face up, glaring at her. "Ha _ha_," he mocked, pouting. "That's not the same."

She took the glass away from him and threw the rest of the drink in the sink under the bar. "It's exactly the same," she told him, folding her arms over her chest, "so go get what you want, Remus Lupin."

*

In a rare, unguarded moment of weakness, Severus let his head fall back against the chair as he sat, a cup of nearly undrinkable coffee in one hand and the noisy chaos of the mid-day hallways outside the staff room pounding at his skull. He closed his eyes and tried to block it all out, focusing instead on thoughts that brought him pleasure: the swirling shifts in colour of a perfectly brewed potion; Albus Dumbledore admitting he made a mistake about _anything_; Remus Lupin's lips...

He opened his eyes, and then narrowed them. That thought did _not_ just cross his mind.

"Oh. Sorry, Severus. I didn't know anyone was in here."

Severus glanced over at the door, scowling. "Of course not, Lupin," he bit out, rising from the chair as his momentary peace was shattered. "Why on earth would any professors be in the staff room? It's ridiculous; you're right."

"Christ. Are you always such a prick?" Lupin responded, with more venom than Severus was prepared for. He paused. "No, wait, don't answer that." Lupin held up a hand. "I _have_ had decent conversations with you in the past; I remember them. So no, you're not. Except now."

"I've a class to chastise, Lupin. I'm not listening to your–"

"You can't keep avoiding me like this."

"I will do exactly as I wish," insisted Severus. "We are not friends, Lupin, despite what you might have thought, and we are certainly not anything _more_ than friends."

Lupin stared at him. "I– no. I didn't think we were." He tilted his head to the side, scrutinising Severus. "Did you think we were?"

The note of hope in his voice was disgusting. "Absolutely not! What did I just say?"

"Because we could have been," Lupin pressed, taking a step towards Severus. "We– I mean, we could be. If you ever wanted to–"

Severus felt the colour drain from his face as he glared at Lupin, and his planned retort died on his tongue. "If I– what? Why would you think I–" He cleared his throat. "This is ridiculous. You assaulted me."

Lupin shot him a withering look. "I did _not_," he whinged, but a moment later, he took a deep breath and his voice softened. "Don't you remember what I asked you, right before I kissed you?"

"You–" Severus paused, gesturing with his hand – "asked why I should believe that you have not been helping Black get into the castle. The question still stands, by the way. I know you two were playing Cowboy and the Arse Bandit back at school." He rolled his eyes and made a face.

Lupin blinked. "I– okay. Well, as fun as that game sounds – and thank you, Severus," he added, sounding increasingly irate, "I shall have to remember that one; perhaps I can get it to catch on among the regulars at Flanery's." He turned grave again, folding his arms over his chest and gazing at Severus, chin raised. "Not that it is any of your business, but whatever _fun_ Sirius and I might have got up to at school was of the purely experimental and inconsequential variety. We were never lovers, and despite the fact that he was a very good friend many years ago, my loyalties to him ended with his arrest for murder. As you might imagine," he added bitterly.

"And why–" Severus began again.

"–should you believe me?" Lupin threw his hands up. "Because I've fallen in love with you, Severus. _You_. Not Sirius; not anyone else."

Snape recoiled as though he'd been slapped. "You– what? Why me? No." He put up a hand. "Never mind. I do not want to know."

But Lupin pressed ahead, stepping towards him. "I didn't ask for it, but ever since that night watching over the Wolfsbane, when we actually got to talking like normal people, I can't stop thinking about you."

"You can't stop...?" Severus paused, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to control his breathing. This was preposterous. "I'm not gay," he said at last, pleased with himself for even getting the word out.

Lupin pressed his lips together. "I'm aware of that," he said quietly, "despite my hoping that maybe, someday, you'd come around." He smiled faintly at that, which made Severus only scowl harder.

"Well, you can stop hoping," he said curtly, brushing past Lupin on his way to the door.

*

"Ah, Severus, there you are. What will you have? I'm buying, of course." Dumbledore's smiling face turned towards him from the bar stool as he entered.

"Right load of bollocks, _he's buying_," the bartender grumbled, wiping a grimy cloth over a glass before stacking it on the shelf under the bar.

"Albus," said Severus with a nod as he seated himself, turning to the bartender. "Aberforth."

"Hasn't paid his tab in twenty years!" Aberforth continued, banging a fist on the bar, but Dumbledore only raised an eyebrow. Still muttering under his breath, Aberforth slung the towel over his shoulder and wandered off to the other end of the bar.

"Siblings," he said with a wink, but Severus caught the nasty glare he threw at Aberforth. "Don't suppose you'd know the charm of them?"

Severus shook his head, picking up the glass Dumbledore offered him.

"Ah, such a pity. So, what did you need to talk about?"

"Headmaster, I really prefer the privacy of your office to this sort of–" he gestured around, making a face – "public sphere."

"Nonsense. If we're to speak of private matters, we shall need a supply of gin." Nodding, Dumbledore drained his glass before glancing sideways at Severus. "Now. What is it?"

"Lupin must be fired," said Severus, taking a long gulp and then wincing at the burn down his throat.

"No," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Anything else?"

"Albus, _listen_ to me. He–" Before Severus could continue, he was distracted by a tall man hovering nearby. Severus's gaze snapped towards him, taking in his long, tailored cloak and grey-blond hair. He looked to be about forty, with crinkles near his eyes that immediately reminded Severus of Lupin. He frowned at the very thought. Ridiculous.

"Sorry," the man said, leaning in and smiling apologetically at Dumbledore before turning to Severus. "I don't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all!" said Dumbledore, gesturing for the man to join them.

He smiled again, almost shyly, and Severus creased his brow in alarm to see a blush spreading up the man's face.

"It's just– have we met before?" he asked Severus, tilting his head to the side. "You seem so familiar, but I fear I'm terrible with names. Perhaps... some months ago, at an Irish place off Diagon?" The man's gaze swept down Severus's robes and back up, lingering over his lips.

"No," said Severus curtly, glaring at the man.

"Oh." He sounded disappointed, but masked it with a renewed smile. "Terribly sorry to trouble you, then. Perhaps if you ever find yourself there... on a Thursday night after nine, say... I'd be most happy for the company." He favoured Severus with a slow smile once more, his eyes searching Severus's face, before turning towards the door.

Severus stared after him.

"Well! It's good to know the younger folk are still going after what they want in this world," said Dumbledore with a wise nod, raising his glass to Severus. Something seemed to occur to him, and he leaned forward. "If being seen with an old fool like me is cramping your style, Severus, please, do go after him." His eyes drifted off towards the door. "He was quite fit."

"What. You. I'm not–" Severus closed his mouth, trying to keep the hot flush he felt from spreading over his cheeks. "I don't know any Irish places. He was clearly insane."

"I believe it's called Flanery's," said Dumbledore, stroking his chin. "Perhaps Remus would agree to take you some night, if you're curious."

"I'm not," snapped Severus, squeezing his eyes shut. "How can you act like that was totally normal?" he sputtered, unable to stop himself. "You're no better than Lupin!"

Dumbledore seemed to consider this. "No," he decided, "maybe I'm not." He hopped off his stool, rooting in his robes for some coins. "It seems that despite your disposition, you are in fact desirable to men, Severus," he said, leaning in and patting Severus on the shoulder. "Perhaps it's time to rethink your definition of 'normal.' And I'm still not firing him," he added as he lobbed the coins at Aberforth, smiling at the sound of them tinkling on the floor behind the bar.

*

In a twisted way, Remus was almost glad that he had his miserable musings about Snape to distract him while at Hogwarts that year, because at least they kept his mind off Sirius. Thinking about Sirius just wasn't something he was prepared to deal with. Even though he knew intellectually that he was repressing all sorts of feelings that he should probably take out and examine, it was too hard. Sirius had been Remus's first confidant about his sexuality, his first experimental tumble, and he'd always been Remus's staunchest defender and protector. His own sexuality had always run much more flexible than Remus's, but he embraced Remus completely, encouraging every statement Remus tried to make with his clothing, his hairstyles, his jewellry, his tattoos, his piercings – in sum, his body as a marker of his identity.

The thought that Sirius had betrayed them all was too painful. But still, after the castle break-ins, knowing that Sirius was out there somewhere possibly trying to speak to Remus, to explain everything, gnawed at Remus's insides.

He sighed as he pushed the door to Snape's lab open. He came here sometimes when Snape was in class, when Remus needed to get away from his nagging thoughts about Sirius and focus on something even more irritating and confusing. Being in Snape's lab reminded Remus of their late night talk here that night so many months ago, and it always calmed him.

This time, however, he quickly realised that the visit would not be calming in the slightest.

"What are you doing here?" snapped Snape, glancing up with a furrowed brow from where he had been bending over to examine the tail of his shirt. His wand tapped at the material as he muttered a string of words, but nothing seemed to happen. "Bloody hell."

"I'm just– what are _you_ doing?" Remus decided changing the subject would be the best course of action.

"Longbottom and his fucking incompetence," muttered Snape, turning slightly to face Remus.

His mouth went dry at the sight of Snape's unbuttoned shirt framing his chest. Snape tugged at the stained corner again, rubbing the material together and tapping it with his wand a few more times. His robe was flung over a nearby worktable and his sleeves were rolled up. Remus couldn't stop his roving eyes from taking in the glimpses of skin. Snape _did_ have a nice dusting of black hair on his chest after all, as Remus had suspected. He had to flex his fingers at his sides to avoid stepping towards Snape and sliding his hands over his chest and into his open shirt.

"The poison should kick in in about, oh, nine more minutes, if I can't get the wormroot fluid out of this."

Remus finally found his tongue. "Wormroot..." He thought for a moment before tilting his head to the side. "Poison? _Now_ who's being dramatic." He stepped forward and brushed Snape's hands away. Taking out his own wand and grabbing an empty phial from the nearest worktable, he murmured a stream of spells, circling his wand just above the fabric. Slowly, the fluid rose up from the shirt as if sucked by the tip of Remus's wand. He controlled the extraction and guided it into the phial, quickly corking it before it could jump back to its preferred home agent in Snape's shirt. Smiling and dusting the light residue from the shirt, Remus glanced up. "There you go," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

Snape eyed him. "It is not possible that you know spells that I do not," he said bluntly, and Remus smiled at him, willing his gaze not to drop again to Snape's bare torso.

"I think I just proved that's not true," he pointed out, enjoying Snape's frustration.

They were each silent for an awkward moment before Snape stepped away abruptly, grasping the edges of his shirt to button it up again. "Quit staring, Lupin. I'm not doing a strip show for you." But his fingers fumbled with the buttons, and when he glanced up at Remus again, Remus held his gaze. Snape's lips parted a little bit, and Remus could see him visibly struggling to breathe in enough air, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I know," said Remus softly. "I'm not–" He cleared his throat, breaking their eye contact at last. "Listen, forget what I said the other day. I know I don't stand a chance with you."

Snape's face shuttered, and he hurried to refasten the buttons. "It's your problem, Lupin, not mine. Leave me out of it."

"Right. I will." But Remus still didn't step away.

As Snape reached for his robe, still avoiding Remus's eyes, he added, "I am not gay, remember?"

"Yes. I know, Severus."

His lips pressed tight together, Snape made a small noise like _hmph_. Then he straightened himself up and strode toward the door. "And Lupin?" he added.

Remus turned.

"Get out of my lab."

*

Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of Lupin's lips against his flashed through his mind again. For awhile, each time was like the actual incident, with Snape tightening his mouth and staring at Lupin in shock before pushing him away, cursing at him and wiping his mouth.

But after a few weeks of the memory appearing in his subconscious, it began to shift. It would take longer for Severus to push Lupin away, or Severus's mouth would not be as tightly closed, or he wouldn't scrub at his lips so vigorously afterward.

One night, the memory – or dream – changed entirely. He drifted off to sleep and almost immediately found Lupin walking towards him in his mind, as if moving into focus from a fog. He shook that damn fringe off his forehead and smiled at Severus, stopping just in front of him and placing a confident hand over Severus's heart.

"You want to know why you should believe me?" he murmured close to Severus's ear, his warm breath causing Severus's heart to pause. "This is why."

And then Lupin was kissing him, his mouth moving gently over Severus's. Soft lips sought his own and this time, Severus felt himself respond. Lupin jerked abruptly away, taking a full step back and breathing hard, his eyes searching Severus's. When they met, Severus felt all of Lupin's desire radiate out and matched it with his own. He could barely even consider the option of resisting; every nerve-ending in his body was telling him to open to this man, to part his lips and haul him closer and kiss him back, with just as much feeling as Lupin was pouring forth.

With a soft sigh, Severus grasped Lupin's arm and pulled him in again, this time reciprocating the kiss in full. He pressed against Lupin, taking his bottom lip between his own and sucking lightly, then releasing it and diving back in again. He tilted his head to the side and felt Lupin's tongue against his lips. Severus slid his own tongue out, just a light whisper of wet heat between them, and touched it tentatively to Lupin's, tasting him even with their lips still a hair apart.

It was like no kiss Severus had ever experienced before. This was a _man's_ mouth, with broader lips and a thicker tongue and God, Severus didn't have to bend down into this kiss to make up for a height difference. It seemed like a minor point, but it caught him off guard and he found that he liked that, he _liked_ tilting his head upward a bit to make up for Lupin's slighter taller frame.

He moved his hands up to Lupin's face, one curling around the back of his neck to draw him closer, Severus's fingers sliding over the leather of that damned pendant, while the fingertips of his other hand moved over Lupin's smooth jaw. Severus parted his lips again and pulled Lupin in, letting the kiss develop with a slow, burning intensity that he felt down to the tips of his toes.

With a start, Severus jolted awake and sat bolt upright, his eyes wide and his lips still burning. He touched shaking fingers up to his mouth, but instead of wiping angrily, as he had done so many times before, he only let them settle over his lips, his mind awash in memory.

***

 

**Act IV**

"No! Noooooooooo!" Hysterical screams rocked the Three Broomsticks before Rosmerta could race across the bar to silence the makeshift telly.

"Fucking hell," she muttered, smiling apologetically at her mid-day customers, who glanced up from nursing their drinks.

"Don't turn it down," protested Remus. "This is going to be good." Wide-eyed, he sat rooted to the box.

On the screen, Constance was collapsing to the floor, screaming like a banshee and pounding her fists. "It's just – not – _fair_!" she wailed, throwing off all attempts by Portia to comfort her. "Jean-Claude! The only man I've ever loved!"

Remus rolled his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she shouted at Portia as the sobs subsided. "Why didn't you let me go to the hospital? I could have given him my blood! I could have donated a kidney! Jean-Claude!" She began sobbing again, slumping down into a pile on the floor.

"There was no time," whispered Portia, turning away and flinging a hand over her forehead. "The car was destroyed. He was–" she paused, biting her ruby bottom lip – "killed on impact."

"Tell her who was driving!" Rosmerta urged, wringing her hands in her dishtowel as Remus nodded beside her.

"Seriously. You think she's having a fit _now_."

"I will never love another!" Constance continued to wail as Portia stepped toward her, looming over her like a shadow.

"There is something else you should know," whispered Portia, her face set in determination. Constance glanced up at her, wiping her eyes. "The police are still looking for the other vehicle, but I have... certain information." She paused, as the show's dramatic music swelled. "It was Mary Beth," she declared. "Hamish was going to pay her a fortune to kill Jean-Claude!"

"Mary Beth?!" Remus and Rosmerta chanted in unison.

"I thought it was Hamish!" cried Rosmerta.

"I thought it was Estrella!" echoed Remus. They both blinked at the screen. "Okay," he allowed. "My life might be slightly ridiculous right now, but it's nowhere near _that_ bad."

Rosmerta nodded, shoving a glass of pumpkin juice at him. "I'll drink to that."

*

"I am not gay," Severus found himself muttering under his breath whenever he was alone and felt the whispers of that damn kiss tugging at his memory again. Stalking down the corridor, passing detentions out like candy or even in bed at night with a book – it didn't matter where he was or what he was doing. The memory didn't seem to understand the meaning of _inappropriate_, and thus he found he needed his steady litany as a reminder.

"I desire women." This was another refrain that he found comforting, although it had been some time since he had actually proven that to himself.

Growing increasingly frantic about the frequency with which he had to remind himself of his sexual orientation, he pushed back the door to the back room of the Hog's Head one night and raised an index finger before Lenora could speak.

"Not a word," he snarled.

Her mouth snapped closed for a few seconds, but she wasn't the sort of woman to stay that way for long. "I've no judgements of you, Professor," she drawled, lingering over the last syllables. "If you're feeling guilty over being here, that's your trouble, not mine."

"I'm not _guilty_," said Severus through gritted teeth.

"Just a wee bit on edge," she replied, smirking. "Well, I got just the bird for that, then. A real tiger in the sack, they say." She laughed, taking another drag off her slim cigarette. "Francesca," she said after moving some paperwork around on her desk. "That'll be two hundred up front, and you'll want to knock six times–"

"Slowly, yes, I know." He signed the proffered parchment, flung the money at her and stalked down the corridor, visions of Lupin still splashing across his mind even as he knocked at Francesca's door. He sighed in relief when he saw her: considerably younger than the last one, and with a scowl on her face that managed to remain in the realm of flirty. No acquiescing dove, this one. He liked that.

He let her shimmy out of her clothes while he watched, and then move towards him and unbutton his shirt while sitting in his lap on her small sofa. By the time most of his clothes were off, he had a comfortable erection and was flushed with relief about it. She manoeuvred them to the bed and slithered onto it, settling back against the multiple pillows and biting her lower lip as she spread her legs for him.

"Come on, then," she teased, tracing a finger up her thigh.

But as he crawled towards her, the image of Lupin's parted lips flashed through his mind again. _"Because I can't stop thinking about you_," his voice echoed in Severus's head. _"I've fallen in love with you_."

Ridiculous.

It wasn't up to Severus to concern himself with the crushes of overeager gay men. They brought it on themselves, mad snafus like this one, by prancing around and throwing themselves at straight men like him. Lupin's crush was not Severus's problem. That was that. He pushed the blasted man out of his mind and focused on the task at hand, namely, seeking inexorable pleasure in a young, female body.

"Tired?" Francesca purred at him, sitting up and trailing a finger down his chest. "Why don't you lie down, love, and I'll take care of everything."

Startled, he did what he was told and soon found himself with a lap full of gyrating woman, her breasts dragging over his chest as she moved her mouth down his body and then back up, pressing her hips against his. But as he gazed up at her, his fingers trying to work over her breasts but feeling only loaded down with lumps of flesh, his desire weakened. She brushed over his sagging prick with her wetness and he winced, squeezing his eyes shut. That turned out to be a bad move, because behind his lids, all he could envision was Lupin.

He remembered Lupin's hungry gaze on him when he had caught Severus with his shirt open that day. He remembered Lupin's lips pressed against his, and the dream of having reciprocated that day instead of pushing him away. He remembered the steel behind Lupin's eyes as he had confessed his feelings to Severus. Neither embarrassed nor ashamed, Lupin had simply stated it as a fact, like the properties of the Wolfsbane potion. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

As he thought about Lupin, he felt himself growing hard under Francesca's hands. For a brief moment, he allowed a quiet moan to escape his lips, pushing his hips up against her as memories of Lupin's scent washed over him. But a moment later, his eyes flew open and he nearly shuddered to see the naked woman moving over him, encouraging him to thrust up inside her. His stomach roiled and his erection flagged.

"Stop," he muttered, sitting up. He shoved her off none too gently, and then pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead.

"Name your activity, love," she offered, sitting back on her heels on the bed. "We can do anything you'd like."

"No, I don't want– I just–" He pressed his lips together, taking another deep breath before rising from the bed and quickly retrieving and donning his clothes. "This is ridiculous." He rummaged for some coins for her and left them on a table near the door. "I'm sorry," he added stiffly before he left. "It's not–" He cleared his throat, feeling more than a little nauseous. "It's not you."

*

As if to prove his sexuality to himself yet again, he placed a discreet order with _Playwizard_ magazine some weeks after the disastrous encounter with Francesca. Assured of a charmed, potions-related cover and pages spelled shut without the key code – mailed to him separately, of course – Severus decided the venture was safe. When it arrived, he let his afternoon classes out early, much to their blinking disbelief – the bloody sods were probably still standing in front of their cauldrons even now, stuttering, _Are you sure, Professor?_ at the front of his empty desk – and rushed back to his rooms.

Pouring himself a healthy glass of wine and settling into a comfortable chair by the fireplace, he keyed in the code and watched as the test tube on the front of the magazine slowly elongated, the cauldrons grew nipples and the stirring rods shifted into strands of blonde hair. When the picture had finished rearranging itself, he found himself staring at a buxom, blonde woman reclining against an upholstered piece of unidentified furniture with her legs spread, a test-tube-shaped object sliding slowly up her –

He cleared his throat.

_I am aroused by women_, he recited to himself once more as he flipped through the pages. The women indeed were perfectly coiffed and arranged in positions designed to turn him on – masturbating themselves with a variety of phallic objects, or throwing lusty gazes at him over their shoulders while on their hands and knees, or – and here, this really was a transparent attempt to spring hard-ons in heterosexual men – kissing and fondling each other in group photos, with nipples sliding up against other nipples and fingers straying between another's neatly waxed legs.

After several minutes, the magazine began to have its desired effect, and Severus felt his body stiffen and his blood run a little bit hotter. He found a photo he particularly liked – a brunette with shorter hair than the others, artfully swept in a long fringe over her eyes and framing her cheekbones, with some deliberate messing in the back. He bit his lip and imagined running his hand through it, grabbing the tousled bob at the back and burying his face in it. She was taller than the others (it seemed to him, although she wasn't exactly standing up) and looked sturdier. Her thighs were thick with muscle tone, and as she spread her legs for him she had a coy look in her eye, as though she knew she could pin him quicker than he could ever pin her – as though she might let him fuck her once, but she would be in charge the entire time, and when he was done, she would simply narrow her eyes, grab her strap-on from the bedside drawer, flip him over and fuck _him_ senseless, hot and hard inside his –

A flash of heat seared through Severus's body at the image, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a long moment.

When he opened his eyes again, she was still gazing up at him and the loop of the Wizarding photo had begun anew with her biting at her index fingernail and spreading her legs for him. Taking in a shuddering breath, he tore at his trousers and freed his cock, gripping it in an inelegant, rough stroke and nearly choking with relief. It took him an embarrassingly short amount of time to come, but even so, it was long after his eyes had blurred against the model's image, overtaken by flashes of Lupin's lips in his memory, of the look of longing on Lupin's face as he'd leaned in for that kiss, and of the vision – all too real in Severus's mind – of Lupin spread out for him like this woman was, stroking himself and beckoning for Severus to plunge inside of him.

He doubled over in the armchair, the magazine sliding off his lap as he milked the hot pulses from his cock with a shaking hand. Breathing hard, his mind went blank and then exploded in colour, and against his dry, parted lips he could almost feel Lupin's warm breath and the softness of Lupin's kiss. He groaned, both in residual arousal and disgust as he sat back in the chair, huffing and trying not to look down at his stained hand and soiled trousers.

"I am not a queen," he muttered to himself again, cleaning himself off with a flick of his wand and rising from the chair. He bent to pick up the magazine and found it had landed on the floor with the back page open. There, his gaze was drawn to a thumb-size photo of a muscular, bare-chested wizard smirking at him with hooded eyes and a head of tousled, sexy blond hair. Severus paused, squinting at the page.

Playwizard_ is proud to present this coupon for a free trial offer with our sister publication, _Wizard (Squared)_. Catering to everyone from the experienced professionals to the confused and curious, _Wizard (Squared)_ has something for every wizard interested in other men. Order between now and April 1 and receive 20% off and a discount at Madam Puddifoot's!_

Severus stared at the advert a moment longer, his heart speeding up and his brain still experiencing annoying flashbacks to Lupin's mouth. Letting out a huff of breath, he tore the coupon out, addressed the order and called for a house-elf to take it to the Owlery all before he could change his mind. Might as well just confront the issue head-on, he decided. Once he had a look at whatever God-awful pictures would be in that magazine, his disgust would be confirmed, and he could leave all of this unfortunate business behind him.

*

"Drink!" Remus cried to Rosmerta as he burst through the door of her flat above the bar, panting. "DRINK."

She stumbled out of her bedroom wrapped in a large t-shirt and leggings, her hair sticking out in every direction and her eyes unfocused. "The fuck, Lupin?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Don't call me that," he said reflexively, his mind immediately darting to the only person he _did_ allow to call him that. "And I have had the worst day in the history of the universe, even worse than Esmeralda's when she found out Hamish was sleeping with the underage Italian nanny in season six." He dug in his pocket for a pile of parchment and flung it on her coffee table as he dropped onto her couch.

"What's that?" she mumbled, bored and sleepy, as she sat down beside him and fell over against his shoulder, mock-snoring.

"That is my past coming back to haunt me," he declared. "That is four years of work with my alleged best friends, the best bloody magical mischief-makers in the entire Wizarding world, I'd wager. _That_ is an item I just got from Harry, after wrestling Snape not to kill the kid over it when he saw what it did."

Rosmerta perked up a bit at that. "What does it do?"

He picked it up, handing it to her. "Ask it."

She blinked at the blank parchment. "Um. Hi, parchment! What do you do?"

After a moment, a cursive script began to unfurl across the page.

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would like to invite Madam Rosmerta to join them in one of the back rooms of the Hog's Head Saturday night. We'll bring our eager, boyish charm, if you bring the gin._

_Hold on. There is– someone wants to– Oh, for God's sake, Moony. GOD. Okay, fine._

_Madam: Messr Moony would like to amend that invitation. He has offered to mind the bar for you, while you accompany the three of us to one of the back rooms of the Hog's Head Saturday night. We'll bring our eager, boyish –_

"Okay, I get it." She laughed, throwing the page back at Remus. "So, what? It said _that_ to Snape?"

"I wish," grumbled Remus. "Remember that we invented that thing, me and James and Peter and Sirius–" his throat threatened to close up as he recited the names – "and we liked you. We did _not_ like Snape."

"Ah. So it told him to go fuck himself?"

"Not in so many words. But also, yes. Pretty much."

"So you're back to square one with him."

Remus sighed. "More than that. He was so angry, thinking I was taking the piss like that. And then _Harry_," he added, throwing up his hands. "That miserable little cretin! Just like James, honestly. I was so pissed off about Snape that I ended up shouting at Harry for– well, for everything. Things that aren't even his fault. And he said he'd seen _Peter_ on it! It's just–" He rubbed his eyes. "My life is ridiculous."

Rosmerta patted his leg as though trying to soothe an angry puppy. "I'll fetch us that drink."

*

The second package arrived wrapped in plain brown paper – looking, Severus thought with a wince as he glanced at it, exactly like poorly disguised pornography.

He refused to dismiss his class early this time in order to race back to his rooms to open it, and in fact, he let it sit untouched on his bureau for three full days before he even paid it any mind. He didn't _need_ to look at it, after all. He'd ordered it in a moment of sheer delusion and insanity or, if he was feeling magnanimous, a passing moment of support for a queer colleague.

Since then, the stupid bloody queer colleague in question had watched with barely suppressed mirth while a tattered old piece of parchment had insulted Severus in front of a student, however. Any "support" Severus might have had for him was quickly draining away.

Still, every time he passed by the package those first three days, Severus swore he could see the ugly brown paper _throbbing_ – thighs tensing and biceps curling and firm male arses clenching on every page of the magazine within. By the time the third day rolled around, Severus broke out in a thin sheen of sweat every time he passed it.

"Oh, for pity's sake," he muttered at last, grabbing the damn thing and tearing into it. He almost dropped it to the floor when he saw the cover. Clutching it in hands he didn't want to admit were shaking, he held the cheap, glossy page up to his face, blinking at it.

It was nothing outlandish – no naked buttocks or enlarged pricks, and certainly no fucking. The quiet intimacy of the two thirty-something men on the cover was almost worse than gratuitous pornography would have been.

Severus took a deep breath, trying to quell the heat spreading out slowly from the base of his spine. The men were fully clothed in Wizarding robes, one in a deep cranberry and the other in dark blue trimmed with grey, and they were standing in a nook between the shops of Diagon Alley. It was broad daylight, but the surrounding street was empty. There was just the two of them, barely touching but with their heads leaning together, one whispering in the other's ear while the other, a shy smile on his face, cast his eyes down at the pavement.

It was nothing but a lewd proposition, Severus decided, meant to appeal to the men who read this magazine – who themselves aspired only to this sort of anonymous back alley hook-up. Yet the photograph captured something beautiful between the men, a connection that seemed anything but anonymous. It made Severus want to turn the magazine over to give them their privacy. He moved his fingers absently over the slick page, slotting himself into the scene for a brief moment. Would he be the man making the suggestion or the one shyly flattered by it? He clenched his jaw. The former, of course. Severus had never been shy about anything in his life.

Except this. Maybe.

"Fancy meeting you here," Lupin could murmur to him if they were the figures in the photo.

"Hardly," Severus would respond. "It's Diagon Alley, Lupin. I come here all the time."

No. That wasn't right. He started again.

"I didn't know you frequented Flanery's, Severus."

"I don't!" Severus would flap his arms. "I'm going to the book shop! This blasted place is in my way."

No.

"Severus," Lupin's voice breathed in his ear as they pressed close to each other against that brick wall. "Come home with me. Just for tonight." A soft, tickling laugh warmed the side of Severus's neck. "I promise not to stir anything without asking."

The line was so bad that Severus found himself smiling, dropping his eyes to the pavement between them as Lupin laughed softly in Severus's ear and Severus came one whispered word away from accepting Lupin's proposition.

Severus's head snapped up, and he squeezed his eyes closed.

_Stop_.

Abruptly, he threw the magazine into the bin and stalked out of the room.

*

"You drink too much," Rosmerta declared when Remus walked into the bar one Tuesday night. She was leaning against the counter smirking at him, and his filthy mood took over.

"And you're a mean old spinster," he shot back, slumping onto a stool and glaring at her.

"Oi! Fuck you!"

"Fuck you back!"

"Miserable bloody queen," she muttered, one hand on her hip as she considered him. "And fuck you again," she decided.

"All right, I'm sorry," he grumbled. "But you'd be an alcoholic too if you had to deal with Snape and his grand coming out debacle."

Her eyes widened. "Coming out? You're joking."

He shook his head. "I have this– just, this _feeling_ about him. I can't even describe it. But I've seen it happen to enough men, you know?" He sighed. "At first I thought he was the sort who would never even consider being with another bloke. He was so violently homophobic, it was really sickening to be around him."

"But...?"

He glanced at her, smiling shyly. "But... I don't know. Lately I've caught him looking at me. Sometimes. Just in staff meetings or at meals. I don't know if he knows he's doing it. It's... intense, though. I think kissing him really unnerved him. Even after that Map, which I thought would have ruined everything. I don't think he knows what he thinks now, and that pisses him off." He laughed. "Bloody idiot," he added fondly.

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

He rested his chin in his hand, pouting. "Probably what I usually do," he admitted. "Nothing."

*

The blasted magazine was taunting him.

No, the blasted _house-elves_ were taunting him by not bloody carting away the rubbish bin containing the magazine.

Dammit.

Against his better judgement, Severus dug it out of the bin and sat down in an armchair in his quarters, studying the men on the cover again and attempting to mentally prepare himself to face the bobbing cocks inside.

Half an hour later, he was well into his second glass of wine and had yet to see a single penis.

The magazine was extraordinary. He flipped through the pages slowly, his eyes scanning each one as his sense of wonder grew. It was an entire culture, its own entire _world_, this gay thing. There were Top Ten lists for the latest gay musicians, gay novelists, gay Ministry employees and gay Quidditch players. There were interviews – some anonymous, some not – with "ordinary" gay couples about their concerns with housing, employment and the laws about Pureblooded childrearing. There was a fashion segment, a full-page advertisement for a clinic on the mysterious tenth floor of St Mungo's, and even – Severus's jaw dropped as he turned the page – a rather graphic and inappropriate cartoon representing the Dark Lord himself _in flagrante_ with a masked servant.

Stunned, Severus lowered the magazine. Was this what Lupin had meant about living his life the way he wanted to? Was this why he acted like there was nothing _wrong_ with the way he dressed and acted? Had he been out living in _this _world, the secret gay parallel universe that Severus – and, he wagered, most of the rest of the Wizarding world – knew nothing about?

He thought back to Lupin's offer before Christmas to answer any questions Severus might have about how gay men lived and wanted to take him up on it. He was brimming with questions he could never ask anyone. He kept flipping through the pages until he reached the end, where a series of advertisements dotted the page.

_Having feelings for other men? Feelings you can't talk to anyone about?_

Severus blinked.

_Send your queries by anonymous owl to the _Wizard (Squared)_ office, and one of our gay gurus will write back to you with our best advice! To ensure the anonymity of your reply owl, be sure to sign your letter with a _Wizard (Squared)_ pseudonym and code it to your owl. Guaranteed same day replies for all queries received before two p.m., Monday to Friday. Offer not available for Durmstrang or Azkaban._

Severus's gaze darted between the advert in his hands and the ink and parchment on his nearby desk. Frowning and cursing Lupin as thoroughly as possible in his own head, he reached for his quill. Twenty minutes and several drafts later, he decided to sod it all. He spelled his script anonymous, called for his owl, gave it explicit instructions regarding his anonymity and the ways in which he would cook the bird for dinner if it was compromised, and then sent it off.

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_This is a query for the "Gay Guru."_

_First: your name is ridiculous, and I wholeheartedly object to it._

_Second: a gay man recently kissed me. Or, rather, he put his lips on mine and attempted to move them in a fashion that might have resembled a kiss, had I not shoved him away and sworn at him in disgust._

_Third: during the assault, the gay man in question placed a spell on me which has led to the enforced lip-mashing replaying itself over and over in my mind until I am about to go mad._

_I am familiar with all manner of spells, and yet, this one is new. I require the gay code needed to lift it. Send with return owl._

_\--Straight Sage_

*

The reply arrived the very next day. Severus ripped it open without pausing to wonder why he was so eager, or even to contemplate putting it off.

_Dear "Straight Sage,"_

_Well, first of all, thank you for your letter. It takes a lot of courage to admit when we're feeling confused about issues like this. It's hard to admit to yourself that you might have feelings for another man. It can be an exciting time for you, but also frightening._

_My advice is to take it slow. Let's start with your nickname here. You don't need to make such rigid distinctions between "gay" and "straight." These are just Muggle terms that we borrow anyway; why adhere to Muggle definitions? There is a long history in the Wizarding world, as you might know, of fluid sexuality. According to some ancient texts, the magical pull on our bodies can cause a great deal of sexual ambiguity._

_What if we started by getting you to admit to yourself that you might be attracted to both women and men? Would that be too frightening for you to consider? Maybe you're not falling for a woman or a man, but simply for another human being._

_I assure you, however, that there is no spell for this, and no "gay code."_

_\--"Gay Guru"_

Severus read the letter three times, wondering why the bloody hell _that _particular tidbit had been left off the History of Magic curriculum when he was at school.

*

_Dear Guru,_

_Very well. I shall acknowledge that what you propose is a possibility, but there is no definitive way to tell. Unless you know of a potion that tests these things. Spit into a cup, perhaps, and add the solution: if it's red, you're straight; blue, you're gay; and yellow... both. That would be of significant assistance to me. I have spent a great deal of time trying to convince myself that the kiss was disgusting and unwelcome, but that is no longer entirely true._

_I believe it might be time to swallow poison. This is not something I am prepared to deal with at the moment. Or ever._

_\--Sage_

*

"Poison! Jesus Christ." Remus whipped out a clean sheet of parchment and began to write furiously.

_Dear Sage,_

_Please tell me that was a really bad joke about the poison. If it wasn't, I might never forgive myself for pushing you too far, too soon. If it was, then I'm glad, but also: shame on you! Some men in your position really do think that's the only option, unfortunately. I wouldn't want to see you do something like that to yourself. This is not the end of the world; I promise. We'll sort you out!_

_If it makes you feel better, I'm currently in a similar situation myself. I've fallen for a man who is not at all open to exploring his sexuality with me. He's never considered being with men before, and even though I think he's curious, I don't want to push him. Well, and I don't want "curious," to be honest. I want him to embrace it – and me! – and stop being so afraid of a little cock. But I know it's also unfair of me to pressure him. Maybe he really is only attracted to women, and we simply have an intense form of friendship, nothing more. Until he's more open with me, it's hard to say._

"Ooh, what's that?"

Remus glanced up to see Rosmerta peering over his shoulder. He covered the parchment with his arm.

"Dirty stories about you." He stuck his tongue out.

"Really? What am I doing in them? Can I be doing them with a suddenly straight Charlie Weasley?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. And I'm doing a friend a favour," he explained. "Niall does the Q&amp;A bit for _Wizard (Squared)_ each month, but this week he's been snowed under with letters. Must be the spring weather." He smiled, picking up his quill again. "I said I'd help him answer a few."

She shook her head. "That's bizarre. Is it really so hard for men to talk to each other that they need to write to a magazine anonymously?"

Remus shrugged. "You'd be surprised. And in this culture? It's not exactly common for straight men to share their sexuality concerns with their mates, unless they involve how many times they shagged their woman stupid." He deepened his voice and pretended to thrust up with his hips.

She shrugged in agreement, moving off down the bar.

*

_Dear GG,_

_Your "problem" is ridiculous. If your man was so straight, why would he even be in an "intense friendship" with you, especially knowing you are gay? He is obviously trying to hint to you that he would be responsive if you were to make the first move._

_\--SS_

*

_Dear SS,_

_You make it sound so simple! But what I didn't mention earlier is that I have already made the first move, so to speak, and it went very badly. He wasn't interested in being close to me then, and even though I think he might be changing his mind, I don't want to put him on the spot like that again._

_But we aren't supposed to be talking about me! How are you feeling about your own situation?_

_\--GG_

*

_Dear GG,_

_How am I feeling? Like an insane Hinkypunk on stimulants, to put it mildly. I cannot sleep, because I think about him every time I close my eyes. I can barely do my bloody job, because I see him often at my workplace. I am constantly on edge, assuming one day he will kiss me again, and I will have to kill him._

_Or sleep with him._

_There are only two options here._

_\--SS_

*

_Dear SS,_

_Well, listen to you! It sounds like you're finally coming to terms with this relationship. How does it feel to even contemplate sleeping with your bloke? You don't have to jump to that right away, though, you know. What if you just tried kissing him again, to see if it really does make you feel the way it does when you dream about it?_

_\--GG_

*

_Dear GG,_

_It feels... exhilarating. I have... magazines that... show things. I find I want to do those things with this man. Maybe. If it were dark._

_No, never mind. I would have to kill him after. Or myself._

_Enough about me. How is your progress with your "straight" man? (Quotes intentional and ironic)._

_\--SS_

*

_Dear SS,_

_STOP JOKING ABOUT KILLING YOURSELF. SERIOUSLY. OR HIM, FOR THAT MATTER._

_Having sex with another man will not ruin your life, I promise. One of three things will happen: one, you will completely lose your erection (or never gain one in the first place) as soon as you see him naked and he begins touching you, leaving you unable to even complete any of the myriad possible acts between you; two, you will engage in some sort of act(s), even have an orgasm and/or give him one, feel vaguely satisfied but nothing more, and have your answers about which gender you would rather sleep with; or three – and this is what happened to me when I first tried it, back in the day – you will come so hard you black out for a few seconds, your body cresting with a pleasure so intense, something you didn't even know it was possible to feel before, that you will immediately start thinking of how you can get it to happen again. Soon. And as often as possible after that._

_Just kiss him again, Sage. See what happens._

_My "progress" (quotes also intentional and ironic) is non-existent. Thank you so much for reminding me._

_\--GG_

*

"Wolfsbane," croaked Severus before clearing his throat. Honestly. "Here," he added, his voice more controlled.

Lupin glanced up from his desk, breaking into a smile when he saw Severus.

No. Severus had to be imagining that.

"Thank you," said Lupin warmly, getting up and motioning Severus into the room. "I appreciate it, Severus."

Handing him the goblet, Severus lingered inside the doorway a bit longer. He watched Lupin's throat as he gulped the potion, momentarily mesmerised by the swallowing action, the ripple of muscle under his skin. Severus shook himself. "How have the transformations been?" he asked stiffly.

Lupin finished drinking and wiped his mouth, pausing to flick a stray drop of moisture from one corner of his lips. Severus stared. "Not bad," answered Lupin, making Severus nearly jump again. "It's nice of you to ask." There was that damn smile again. "The Wolfsbane is making a world of difference."

Severus nodded. He meant to step back through the door and run away, but his feet got the message entirely wrong and took a step forward instead. "What are you working on?"

Lupin blinked at him. "I– oh." He glanced back at his desk. "Just some extra work a friend sent me. Bit of extra money." His smile turned faintly embarrassed, but Severus didn't let him dwell on it. He nodded again, trying to soften his own expression. He found himself gazing at Lupin's mouth, wondering in the back of his mind if now was the time, if this was what the Guru had meant when he'd advised Severus to try kissing Lupin again – properly this time. He took another step forward.

"Lupin, I–"

_Tap tap tap_.

An insistent owl hammered against the window, and Lupin turned abruptly.

Severus released a breath, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Lupin read the owl's scroll and smiled, shaking his head. "Rosmerta," he explained to Severus. "She sends me summaries of our favourite programme on the days I can't make it up to Hogsmeade to watch. Ridiculous, being addicted to a soap opera, isn't it?"

_My entire life is a soap opera right now_, Severus thought with a grimace, but he only shrugged.

"Here," continued Lupin, grabbing a quill. "Let me just send her a quick note back, and then maybe we could have a cup of tea?"

Severus hesitated but then nodded again, as Lupin flashed him a smile and leaned up against the wall to scribble a note. Severus found his gaze wandering around the room, taking in the ridiculous way Lupin had furnished his office: rainbow flags, peace signs, indecipherable Chinese characters, and – Severus squinted as he gazed up above the door. It was out of the way, nothing a student was likely to notice without looking for it, but Severus found it: a black-and-white Muggle photograph of two posed men, naked with their limbs artfully intertwined. The image nearly took Severus's breath away, so beautiful were the two bodies merging in the shadows even without showing anything explicit.

He had almost decided to do it, almost decided to just step towards Lupin, grab his shirt collar and haul him in for a deep kiss the moment he finished that bloody letter, when he saw it:

_I find I want to do those things with this man. Maybe. If it were dark_.

A trickle of ice ran down Severus's spine. He stepped closer to Lupin's desk and saw a piece of parchment peeking out from under another. Glancing up to make sure Lupin was still occupied writing, Severus reached out and tugged the parchment free, his heart thudding to a stop as he read the whole thing.

Good God, _no_.

Blinking very rapidly and trying to process this information, he felt his blood begin to boil and all the old feelings of venom resurface towards that lying, scheming, bloody fairy. Trying to hoodwink him like this! Lupin wouldn't get away with it.

"Okay! My theory about Mary Beth and Hamish's conspiracy against Portia and Jean-Claude should keep Rosmerta up half the night rewatching old episodes." Lupin turned back to Severus looking very pleased with himself, and Severus's temper caught fire.

"Have you been enjoying yourself?" he asked coldly.

"I– what?" Lupin glanced over his shoulder at the owl. "Well, yes. But don't worry about her. She won't _really _be up half the night. I was just taking the piss."

"Is that what you've been doing with me?"

Lupin's face drew closed in concern. "No," he said quietly. "What's got into you? I thought we were having tea."

"Tea." Severus folded his arms over his chest and glowered. "You want people to be so tolerant of you and your lifestyle, don't you, and look what you do in return – luring unsuspecting men into your web only to have a laugh behind their backs. You're disgusting, just like I always thought."

"What is it now?" cried Lupin in exasperation. "Christ, it's always something with you. Just when I think we might be getting along again, you pitch another fit – and I'm the drama queen?" He rubbed at his eyes. "What have I _done_?" he repeated, punctuating every word as frantic eyes searched Severus's face.

"What have you done?" Severus grabbed the parchment off the desk and threw it at Lupin. "Why don't you tell me, _Guru_?"

Lupin watched it flutter to the floor, his eyes wide. "I– you read my– wait."

Severus turned and stormed back towards the door, but Lupin was quicker, arriving ahead of him and slamming the door.

"No. You're not storming out this time. _You're_ Straight Sage?" Lupin's palm was still flat over the door, his body entirely too close to Severus's.

"Not anymore." Severus thought about that. "Except for the straight part," he added, narrowing his eyes at Lupin even as he cursed his heart for beating much too quickly from Lupin's nearness. Reaching for the door, he yanked it open and stalked out.

*

Remus's mind reeled, moving through every detail of those letters in seconds. There was no way those letters had been between him and Snape, _about_ him and Snape. Holy Jesus. Belatedly, he scrambled out the door and ran after him. When he got to the dungeons and hammered on Snape's door, he almost wasn't ready for the door to fly open right away.

"I'm not gay!" Snape thundered, his eyes flashing. "Why can't you understand that?"

"Bollocks!" insisted Remus, charging into the room. "Then what was all that about, 'I can't sleep, because I think about him every time I close my eyes'? What about, 'If he kisses me again, I might just have to sleep with him'?" He stood before Snape, breathing heavily and waiting for a reply. The stupid bastard; he wasn't going to get away with this. Not again. Remus knew the truth of Snape's feelings now; he couldn't let him walk away.

"Or kill him, I said," added Snape, but his voice had gone quiet, and all the breath drained from Remus's lungs when he saw the way Snape was looking at him.

Snape's chest was heaving as his gaze locked on Remus, flitting between his eyes and his mouth. In another second, and pushed to action by a higher power Remus couldn't even imagine, Snape closed the distance between them and planted his hands on either side of Remus's face. He pulled them together but then hesitated, his lips only a breath away as he seemed to give the matter one last attempt at rational thought. His own hands quickly sliding up Snape's shirt, Remus paused with him, staring hungrily at Snape's parted lips and waiting, begging silently that he wouldn't pull away.

Finally, with a small noise in the back of his throat, Snape crashed their mouths together, hauling Remus in close and kissing him with ferocious intensity. Oh, _oh_. Remus struggled just to hang on, clutching at the front of Snape's shirt and trying his best to maintain control of the kiss, not to let it spiral out of control so quickly that Snape would get frightened again and back off.

His lips burned and his blood raced, because Snape felt _brilliant_ against him. Everything Remus had ever assumed about Snape's intensity and power, cloaked so carefully beneath his frigid façade, came tumbling forth as the room began to spin around them and the heat between their bodies rose.

Remus slid his hands up, one pausing at Snape's shoulder while the other moved into his hair, caressing the back of his head with what Remus hoped were soothing motions. He let the dark strands tangle around his fingers, moaning softly into Snape's still ravaging mouth, as the initial explosion of the kiss settled into a soft rhythm. When he finally pulled back just slightly, he smiled gently at the sight of Snape's stained, parted lips, their foreheads nearly meeting as Snape watched Remus's hand slide down his chest with aching slowness.

Remus knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't wait any longer. Snape was _ready_; Remus was sure of it. He only needed to be guided in the right direction in order to give in and accept his feelings. It was time for him to stop fighting, stop denying what he wanted. Remus's hand glided down, down, absorbing the heat from Snape's chest and landing at his trousers. He curled two fingers into the waist, tugging gently, but almost immediately, Snape's hand came down and grasped his wrist.

Glancing up, Remus caught the panic flitting across Snape's face, and he held still in Snape's grip. Wordlessly, he smiled again, searching Snape's eyes for signs he would accept this reassurance. Then, Remus moved his hand back up, cupping the side of Snape's face and brushing his fingers gently over Snape's temple.

With a soft sigh, Snape seemed to melt before him, closing his eyes and leaning into the quiet touch. Remus stayed there a moment longer, soothing the brilliant, terrified creature before him like he would a wounded animal, until Snape's eyes fluttered open and he gazed at Remus with a new resolve behind them. He leaned in again to capture Remus's mouth, the kiss softer this time and less urgent, and Remus had to bite back his moan of triumph.

The next move was Snape's to make, Remus knew, and he took it. Still without saying a word, he broke the kiss again and moved his fingers to Remus's t-shirt, shyly tugging at the hem and slipping his fingers underneath. Remus shivered at the contact but still tried to keep control of the situation, moving only as quickly as Snape would allow. When Snape became more insistent, lifting the shirt up to expose Remus's stomach and chest, Remus bit at his lower lip and stepped back a fraction, pulling the shirt over his head.

He stood before Snape and followed his gaze, faintly sighing as he watched Snape drink in the sight of his bare chest. Tentatively, Snape reached out a hand and trailed his fingers from Remus's collarbone down to his navel. He paused over Remus's left nipple, flicking his thumb against the gold ring there, and Remus struggled to stay still, gooseflesh breaking out all over his body.

Remus leaned in for another kiss, as Snape's hands began to roam over his shoulders and chest, touching him like a man starving for it. As their lips met again, Remus reached for Snape's shirt, his fingers sliding over the buttons even as he still half-expected to be shoved away at any moment. But Snape continued to surprise him, gasping into his mouth as he slipped each button from its hole, moving down Snape's chest until the shirt hung open and Remus could push his hands inside. He moved forward then, kissing him deeper and brushing their bare chests together.

As their bodies aligned, Remus had to suppress both a low groan of desire and a whoop of victory at the evidence of Snape's generous erection pressing up against his thigh. It was _on_ now; there was no going back. Shrugging off his doubt and deciding to stop treating Snape like a fragile little virgin, Remus ground his hips in, making sure Snape could not miss Remus's own dick pushing against him.

In return, Snape broke the kiss again and closed his eyes, moaning low in his throat. Small patches of colour had formed on his cheeks, and his hair was tousled from Remus's hands. He already looked debauched and utterly brilliant. It was Snape, not Remus, who began to maneouvre them through the sitting room and towards the bed, tugging at Remus and walking him backwards even as they continued to kiss and touch each other. Once there, he pushed Remus back onto the bed and fell on top of him, leaning down to kiss at his throat, his chest, even as far as his navel before sitting back on his heels, his chest heaving.

"I really, _really_ hate to ask this right now," panted Remus, struggling up to his elbows, "but are you _sure_?"

Snape gazed at him for several agonising seconds before his eyes narrowed and a tiny, flirty smile tugged at his lips. "Trousers off," he murmured, grabbing for Remus's zip. He pulled them down together with Remus's pants and then ran his hands over Remus's thighs, pausing in a V with his thumbs around Remus's swollen prick. He stared at it, with his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "And no more talking," he growled.

"You– God. Okay." Remus fell back against the pillows as Snape removed the rest of his own clothing and then Remus's. When they were both naked, Remus reached up to unfasten his pendant as Snape crawled over top of him and hovered, gazing down.

"Leave it," Snape murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and Remus's hands stilled at his throat. His lips quirked up.

"You like it?"

Snape's lips parted as he wet them. One hand reached down to grasp Remus's arm where he was still wearing one of the two wrist bands as well. Snape massaged the worn leather a little bit, his eyes fixated on it as if in wonder, and then he curled his thumb into the material, pausing. His gaze travelled back up Remus's chest to the medallion at his throat. "I said, leave it," he growled again, and Remus had to close his eyes briefly against the surge of arousal that pulsed through him.

Snape lowered himself down a bit as he hovered over Remus, his breath soft against the side of Remus's face and his body held tight, not quite touching him.

"I don't–" he began after a few moments of panting silence, gazing down at Remus with a new uncertainty. Remus decided not to call him out on the no talking rule.

"You do," he offered quietly, his hands running soothingly up and down Snape's arms. "You know what to do. There are no rules. You can do anything you want, anything that feels good."

When Snape still didn't move, Remus let one of his hands drift lower, gliding the back of his fingers over Snape's stomach and through the nest of hair at the base of his prick. Snape sucked in a breath and his arms began to quake where they were holding him up, as Remus brushed his fingers up Snape's cock, lightly sweeping from base to tip.

"Anything you want," he whispered again, taking a firmer grip this time as he squeezed Snape and swirled his thumb over the head of Snape's prick. He did it once more, and then Snape was gone.

The groan that fell from Snape's mouth was guttural, as he fell on top of Remus and began to thrust his hips forward, grinding against him. The pressure and friction exploded between them, and Remus found himself awash in sudden pleasure. He raised his knees and trapped Snape between them, tilting his hips up and meeting every thrust down into him with a push back up into Snape. Dark hair fanned out over his chest and shoulder as Snape buried his face in Remus's neck, grunting and kissing and licking at him.

Much as he enjoyed being pinned to the bed by a ravaging man, Remus was not going to last like this, and there was so much more he wanted to show Snape.

With a moan and a bit of a shove, he pushed them both up and, ignoring Snape's questioning look, flipped them over so that Snape landed on his back. After the initial shock of finding himself thrown down on the bed, Snape's eyes darkened and his lips parted. He was still panting, but he lay still as he waited to see what Remus was going to do.

The sight of him like that, so compliant and eager and willing to take whatever Remus would give him tugged at Remus's heart. He knew that Snape was throwing aside a lifetime of fear in order to be here with him, and Remus was bloody well going to make sure the man enjoyed it.

"Let's try this," he murmured close to Snape's ear, even as he _Accio_'ed his wand and cast a lubrication spell over his dick. "Shh," he added when Snape's eyes widened. "Not that." He smiled. "Not yet. Just– can you trust me?"

Snape's chest rose and fell for several long seconds, his eyes never leaving Remus's, before he nodded at last. His gaze fell to Remus's prick, now glistening with oil and sliding against his own. He moaned.

Encouraged, Remus grasped his prick at the base and teased it over Snape's, determined to show him, first and foremost, what two pricks could do together to feel good. He shuddered as the tip of his prick glided down Snape's shaft and then back up, tracing lightly but with increasing pressure at every stroke. Snape's hips began to thrust up rhythmically, seeking more contact, and the sounds that fell from his mouth made Remus's body tingle. He could barely make himself pause to appreciate that after all this time, all this wanting, he was finally _here_, naked in bed with Severus Snape.

Eventually, on a downstroke, Remus slid his prick lower, dragging the oil over Snape's balls and pressing against them. Then he continued down, hesitating only a few seconds as he glanced up to catch Snape's gaze, which was rooted to what he was doing. At the cessation of movement, Snape looked up at him, his eyes wide. Remus smiled gently at him and Snape visibly relaxed, melting back into the pillows.

"Trust me," whispered Remus again, as he slid his prick between Snape's thighs and along the cleft of his arse. At the first thrust, Snape nearly arched off the bed – and Remus wasn't quite sure if it was to try to get away from the unfamiliar invasion or out of pleasure. "Easy," he murmured again, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not trying to push inside you," he assured Snape. "I promise. That's not something I could do as a surprise, anyway." He allowed himself a small smile. "I'm just going to do this." He thrust his hips down again, gliding along Snape's cleft and then back up to his balls again. "It feels – _God_ – so good to me," he choked as the pleasure intensified with each stroke. "Does it– do you like it?"

Snape's breathing had sped up again, and Remus glanced down with a jolt speeding through his body to see that Snape's hand had wandered down his stomach and was grasping at his prick, squeezing it erratically. "It– God." Snape swallowed hard, his face flushing further. After another few seconds, with pleasure and apprehension at war on his face, his eyes flashed up at Remus. "I thought I said no talking," he bit out.

He closed his eyes, and Remus took the opportunity to grin openly, awash in sensation. He sped up his thrusts, knowing he wouldn't be able to hang on much longer with Snape's body so hot and tight around him. He felt an intense connection to Snape at that moment, knowing how difficult it was for Snape to trust him, to open his body like this and let Remus in.

It was with great reverence that Remus moved his hands to Snape's stomach and up his chest, touching him with careful, soothing strokes even as his prick sped up, thrusting between Snape's thighs. He lifted Snape's hand away from his prick, folding the fingers into his own and pressing their joined hands back against the pillows.

"Not yet," he breathed, reaching for Snape's other hand and mirroring the first, so that he had both of them pinned in his own near each of Snape's ears. He felt Snape squeeze their interlaced fingers, gasps falling from his lips, and the intimacy of it struck Remus like lightning.

His orgasm began at the base of his spine, racing up each vertebra and then up the back of his neck, making him tingle and shiver as his prick stiffened and pulsed. Hot come seeped into the cleft of Snape's arse as Remus shoved in one last time, holding himself still and squeezing his fingers against Snape's.

"_Oh_," gasped Snape, panting even more than Remus, if that were possible. Despite his strong urge to flop down to the bed and rest, Remus didn't let himself do it. If he didn't act immediately, he knew Snape still might reconsider the second half of this encounter – or he might have reason, if given too long to think about it, to regret the slippery come now coating his arse and thighs.

Pulling his cock free and shifting down the bed, Remus slithered his hands out of Snape's and dragged them over Snape's stomach and down to his thighs. He wrapped one around the base of Snape's prick and guided it up to his mouth, pushing it between his lips before Snape could react.

Well. Before he could react _negatively_.

"Oh. _Oh_, Christ. God." He arched up off the bed and then crunched his stomach muscles, thrusting up into Remus's mouth. He gasped and writhed as though he'd never had a mouth around his cock before, and Remus smiled to himself as he worked his tongue along the underside. "No. Oh, God. I can't. I just–"

Remus reached a soothing hand up to lie flat over Snape's heart, tracing light fingers through his chest hair to try to calm him. With his other hand, he dipped down between Snape's legs and slid come-coated fingers up Snape's balls and then further up his shaft, moaning at the added slippery sensation reaching his lips.

Above him, Snape groaned low and desperate, his hips bucking up as he tried to push deeper into Remus's mouth. Remus held him down but took him in as deeply as he could, making up the rest with a strong fist around the base of Snape's cock.

With one more wild groan, Snape pushed his dick up and stilled, come pulsing into Remus's mouth in great waves. He swallowed it rhythmically, wondering if Snape was watching his throat work and getting off on it the way Remus sometimes did with his partners, knowing exactly what was getting swallowed down and why. Snape's dick began to soften between Remus's lips, and he sucked at it gently as he eased it out of his mouth, nuzzling it even as he laid it back down against Snape's stomach.

He allowed himself several deep breaths to clear his head, panting on his hands and knees between Snape's legs, because holy Jesus. He could barely believe that that had just _happened_, that Snape had actually kissed him again, undressed him and allowed them to do this together, tumbling into bed like randy, curious teenagers. He wiped at his mouth, licking the last traces of come from his lips, and then crawled up Snape's body. He nestled against him, his head on Snape's shoulder and his fingers tracing idle circles across his chest, willing his breathing to return to normal.

After a few quiet minutes, it occurred to Remus that Snape had gone awfully stiff along with the silence. He raised his head. "All right?" he asked softly.

As though he was surprised to be spoken to, Snape's eyes snapped down towards him. He gave a curt nod, then moved his gaze away to stare across the room again.

"Would you like– I mean, I can get us something to drink?" Remus tried again, but already his heart was zooming towards his feet. "Or a cleaning spell, I suppose." He gave a weak laugh.

"No," said Snape gruffly. "Thank you," he added with hideous formality.

Fighting back a crushing wave of disappointment, Remus pushed himself up on one elbow. "That was brilliant, you know," he said, determined to keep his voice steady. He would not slink off into the shadows like a cheap whore after this. He was going to make Snape confront it, goddammit, and admit that he had enjoyed it just as much as Remus.

Beside him, Snape's jaw clenched and he continued to stare resolutely off across the room, neither responding to Lupin nor meeting his eyes.

The barriers broke at that, and the wave crashed over Remus despite his best efforts to hold it off. _Bloody, fucking hell_, he mentally berated himself. Rule number one: never get involved with straight men. They were always way more fucking trouble than they were worth. He took a deep breath. "Would you rather be alone?" he asked, again struggling to keep his voice calm.

He had to be grateful, in hindsight, that Snape appeared to be so gobsmacked by the entire encounter that he had lost his ability to bite out scathing insults at Remus. But his silence was almost worse. Remus would rather be called a disgusting animal right now, a filthy faggot who had wormed his way into Snape's bed. Anything would be better than _nothing_. Pushing himself off the bed and gathering his clothes, Remus headed for the door with his head as high as he could hold it.

"Really brilliant," he added softly, pausing at the door to give Snape one last longing glance. Snape's gaze darted over to him and Remus wanted to believe – _needed¬ _to believe – that his face softened in agreement if only for a quick second, but he couldn't be sure. The mask was back in place before Remus could analyse it, and Snape had sat up on the bed, gazing at the wall and not the door.

His stomach churning and his face blazing with shame and disappointment, Remus left the bedroom for the sitting room, dressed himself quickly and made his way out of the dungeons with as much speed as he could muster.

*

When Lupin had left, Severus eased himself back down again, pulled the blankets up around him and lay in the bed a long time, staring at the ceiling.

He didn't immediately cast a cleaning charm on his body but rather held himself very still, as though through sheer force of will and absence of movement, he could erase what had happened. It was futile. His shaking hand wandered under the blanket and down to his soft prick, and he let his fingers hover over it, touching only lightly.

The memory of Lupin kneeling between his legs slammed forth again, that erotic bloody nipple ring cool against Severus's thigh and that black pendant brushing over Severus's balls with each bob of Lupin's head. At the thought of it, Severus inadvertently tilted his hips up, gasping. How could a single mouth have felt so incredible – warm and wet like nothing he had ever felt before, despite the fact that he was hardly new to blow jobs?

He flashed forward to the memory of coming in Lupin's mouth, his prick stiffening and pulsing hotly through the suction even as he watched Lupin's throat work to swallow every drop. A shiver passed through his body as he thought of it, the pleasure etched on Lupin's face as he'd taken it all in contrasting so bluntly with the look of disgust that usually crossed the features of the women Severus had been with. Lupin had swallowed Severus down like he'd _enjoyed_ it, not like he'd been doing him a favour. It was too much to handle.

Hesitating another moment over his cock, Severus finally let his fingers slip lower, lightly sliding over his balls. He paused again and sucked in a breath when he encountered moisture behind them. Squeezing his eyes closed and parting his lips to release a soft moan, he pressed his fingers back further, gliding them through Lupin's cooling come and up into the cleft of his arse. He'd never done anything like that before, never let a woman he'd been with touch him there. Nor had he ever investigated it by himself. The things it was possible to do... his mind boggled. He knew about them, of course, but he hadn't thought of doing them himself.

But now he could think of nothing else.

Probing gently, he pushed his finger in further, up near his entrance, and felt Lupin's come ease the way to allow him to dip inside. With a startled gasp, he pulled it out again quickly, breathing hard, but after a few seconds he pulled himself together and tried again. He wanted to know. He _had_ to know.

Pressing in again, he raised one knee and arched his wrist at the best angle, letting his index finger coat itself with Lupin's come and slip inside his body. It felt neither good nor bad, just different. Emboldened, he tried to add a second finger, working it gently against his entrance until it too slipped inside. The feeling was tighter now, bolder. Experimentally, he tried sliding the two fingers in and out, and although he was sure he wasn't touching anything spectacular inside, a great swell of arousal built up inside him. He imagined the fingers belonged to Lupin, not himself, gathering his come like this and using it to coat Severus from the inside out. He imagined Lupin over top of him, kneeling between his legs again and fucking him with two fingers.

The cords of his neck strained against the pillow as he fucked himself faster.

He imagined Lupin spreading oil over his cock the way he had less than an hour ago in this very bed, sliding it between Severus's thighs and glancing up at him. "I'm not trying to push inside you," Lupin had promised him, and at the time, Severus had been relieved. But what if he had answered differently? What if he had grasped Lupin's wrist where it guided his cock and looked him straight in the eye? What if he had murmured, "You can do it. Push it inside me"?

Exhaling with staccato breath, Severus envisioned Lupin slicking up his cock and reaching down to spread Severus's legs, sliding along his cleft the way he had done but then shifting position, pointing at Severus's entrance and working his way inside. What would it feel like, he wondered, even as he slowed his fingers. It must be brilliant, if the fairies of the world were so damn proud of themselves, wandering the streets like Lupin and declaring loudly, for anyone to hear, that they were here and queer.

It must be worth fighting for the right to do it.

But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Severus tugged his fingers free and sat up, breathing hard. Angrily, he wiped his hand in the sheets and jumped out of bed, wincing and nearly vomiting at the sudden trickle of come down his thighs.

He didn't want to admit that it was his father's voice he heard echoing in his head. _Nancy wizard queer. You fucking fairy. Get out of my house_.

He was disgusting – covered in another man's come and dreaming of ways to make sure it happened again. No bloody way. He grabbed his wand and muttered three identical cleaning charms in quick succession, squeezing his eyes shut against the abrasive feeling that followed. It wasn't enough.

He stalked to the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, climbing in and standing under the spray for what felt like hours. He scrubbed at his body until it was raw, clearing every patch of kissed skin and every crevice of caressed muscle. He felt filthy and ashamed as the water burned into him, but even more than that, he still felt a bone-deep arousal at the thought of doing any of it again, and with Lupin.

He let the scalding water beat down on him as a punishment, determined never to let himself give in to his disgusting temptations again.

***

 

**Act V**

Remus refused to dwell on what had happened. Well, not on the way it had ended, at least. He took delight in dwelling on the rest of it – the way Snape had fairly melted under Remus's touch, the way he had responded with such open arousal to everything Remus had suggested, the way he had clutched at Remus and poured himself into Remus's mouth with such need. Remus tried to remain hopeful that, if given a day or two by himself to come to terms with his first sexual encounter with a man, Snape would be fine. "Straight Sage" had been so open about his desires, after all. The man behind the persona couldn't be too far from that place himself.

Feeling optimistic, Remus headed to the potions lab after his final class of the day, knowing Snape should also be finished by then. Remus hovered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Snape capped ingredients and tidied the workbenches, his back to Remus.

"Hi," said Remus, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorway, smiling.

Snape turned. "Professor Lupin!" he said, a bit too loudly and with transparently false joviality. Remus's heart began to sink.

"How are you?" pressed Remus, undeterred.

"I've not felt better in years," said Snape, but the reply only increased Remus's nervousness. A Snape who wanted to return to their intimacy would be quieter about it, Remus was certain, approaching him and murmuring a flirty insult in his ear. Not this.

"Well, that's good to hear," said Remus cautiously.

"I should thank you, I suppose," added Snape, creasing his brow and nodding. "I might have continued on that ridiculous path for who knows how long, had you not shown me the way out."

Remus hesitated. "Which... ridiculous path would that be?"

Snape waved a hand, then placed a series of phials back in a cupboard under one of the workbenches. "Oh, you know. Writing to faggot magazines, wondering if I might actually wish to see another man naked." He snorted, and Remus's heart turned to stone. "So, thank you, Lupin–" Snape lifted his chin, looking triumphant – "for showing me the error of my ways."

Remus swallowed, pressing his lips together. "You– okay. Just hold on a minute. I don't think you thought it was an error," he said quietly, the hot flush of humiliation creeping up his face.

"I had to see for myself, I suppose, but now I know," said Snape, his eyes not quite meeting Remus's. "Sex is simply better with a woman."

He didn't mean that. He couldn't mean that. Remus's mind raced and his throat began to close. He knew what he'd seen of Snape unmasked that night; he knew it hadn't been an act, or just an experiment. Snape had to be running scared now, throwing his defences back up only because he didn't know how to admit that he had enjoyed sex with Remus so much. He didn't know how to move forward from this. "Severus," began Remus, taking a step towards him. "I know how you feel. It can be difficult to admit you–"

"How I feel?" Snape forced a laugh, and Remus recoiled. It was a sickening sound. "I feel nothing but relief that this entire debacle is behind us."

"Severus," Remus tried again, walking towards him, but Snape stepped back and held his hand up.

"Get out, Lupin," he said, his tone hardening, "and do not mention that encounter to me again. It is done with, and I just told you I have no desire to repeat it. Stay away from me. Don't make me go to Albus with a harassment suit."

Remus blinked, his gaze dropping to the floor. He took a deep breath before nodding and turning back towards the door. "Fine," he muttered. He pulled the door closed behind him with a definitive _thud_. Out in the corridor, he paused only long enough to lift his trembling hand from the doorknob and hold it in front of his face. As if they belonged to someone else, he stared at the five digits and flashed back to the way they had felt gliding over Snape's flushed skin. Then his mind pushed forward old memories, smashing through the image of Snape's body arched in orgasm and replacing it with the way he had turned away from Remus afterwards. Like a soundtrack turned up, he heard Snape's disparaging voice echoing in his ears, repeating all the insults he had ever thrown at Remus back at school. Shaking his head, Remus set off as fast as he could, nearly running down the corridor and up to the main foyer. Without pausing, he crossed to the great front doors and hurried across the grounds to Hogsmeade.

By the time he arrived at the Three Broomsticks he was a wreck, slumping into a stool and leaning over the bar with his head in his hands.

"Oh." Rosmerta hurried over to him. "Oh, _oh_, no, sweetheart," she soothed, stroking his hair. "What's he done now? Did you ask him about the other night?"

Remus reluctantly raised his head, one hand still covering half his face. He must have looked a pity, because the crushed expression she absorbed on his behalf was nothing short of tragic. He nodded.

"Oh, bollocks," she muttered, shaking her head. "Wait. If I'm going to hear about this, we'll both need booze." She poured them each a firewhisky and placed Remus's in front of him on the bar.

He took a sip and waited for it to kick in a bit, ignoring the way it scorched his throat, but it didn't make him feel better. "You want to know something about a gay broken heart?" he asked after a moment, cradling his drink and glancing up at Rosmerta.

"What's that, love?" she said softly, giving him a sad smile.

He ran his finger through the condensation of his glass, his gaze dropping to the gently bumping ice cubes. "It's still a broken heart."

*

"Hi." Lupin's voice floated through Severus's consciousness, and he turned from the phials, his heart pausing.

"Lupin," he acknowledged, slowly wetting his lips and making no effort to hide the sweep of his gaze down Lupin's body and back up. He strolled across the lab until they came face to face, and Severus reached up to brush the fringe out of Lupin's eyes.

"How are you?" murmured Lupin, the beginning of a smile tugging at his mouth, and Severus slid his fingers down from Lupin's hair over his cheek and then to his lips, tracing them lightly.

"Better now," he whispered, turning his thumb and forefinger to capture Lupin's chin. He leaned in closer and Lupin met him halfway, their lips brushing with a slow, aching intensity that spread warmth throughout Severus's body. He moaned against Lupin's mouth, bringing his hands up to cradle Lupin's head and pull him in closer.

The kiss was even better for the intimacy behind it, Severus decided, now that they had spent the night together and shared so much. He was no longer uncertain about what a kiss from Lupin might mean, and how he himself might respond to one. All Severus knew was that he wanted more of them, as many as possible, and he wanted them to lead to more nights of touching each other and exploring each other's bodies between the sheets.

With a strangled gasp, Severus sat up in bed, the image of Lupin disappearing from his vision like a puff of smoke. His room was dark and cold, and his bed was empty save himself. His lips still tingled, though, and he pressed the tips of two fingers against them until his heartbeat slowed.

He tossed and turned the rest of the night, unable to erase Lupin from his mind.

*

Remus began sleeping too much and eating too little. Exams were nearly upon them, but he found he couldn't much care about his teaching duties. Intellectually, he knew it was silly to let himself get so upset about Snape, but his heart didn't care. He reread the letters "Sage" had sent to the magazine and ran his fingers over the parchment. Despite the disguised handwriting, just knowing that Snape's true feelings lay behind the words made Remus feel a little bit better. Snape simply needed more time, Remus decided.

In the meantime, Remus was ashamed to admit that he couldn't stop gazing at the Marauder's Map that he had confiscated from Harry. Having it back again only added to his urge to sit in his room and drink, but at the same time, it was nice to live in the past for a little bit, awash in the memories of a time when he'd had more friends than just Rosmerta to lean on. He thought back fondly to the research that had gone into creating the Map and the late nights spent testing Charms and spells to construct it. He had fallen a little bit in love with James and Sirius on those nights, and them with their own plans and ideas. Emerging from that experience had cemented the three of them, plus Peter, as lifelong friends and brothers.

Or so they had thought.

Remus had always believed without a shadow of a doubt that nothing would come between them after that. They not only had each other and this incredible invention their minds and magic had come up with, but the very nature of that invention meant that they always knew where the others were at all times. Sirius laughed more than a few times after catching Remus snogging Ravenclaws in the castle's nooks and crannies because of the Map, and the other three never let Peter forget it when the Map showed him standing alone for a long period of time behind a suit of armour – conveniently located across the corridor from the controversial painting of Miriam the Farm Maiden bending forward, cleavage front and centre, to milk a cow.

They had always known where the others were, and by extension, Remus used to believe, they had always known what the others were thinking and feeling. If only Filch hadn't confiscated the Map and they'd had it during the war, he couldn't help but think wistfully. How might things have turned out differently?

But now Remus found he only wished to follow one dot on the Map. He sat for hours watching Snape move around the castle, even though he had to admit it wasn't very interesting. The man taught or otherwise puttered around in the potions lab, ate in the Great Hall, and retired to his rooms. Occasionally he stopped by the staff room for coffee (Remus assumed) or patrolled the Slytherins' dungeon corridors at night, but he rarely spoke to anyone but Dumbledore and never left the castle.

One night, however, Remus was sprawled out on his bed, working lotion into his dry hands and glancing occasionally at the Map beside him. He did a double take when he saw the dot labelled _Severus Snape_ moving slowly through the corridors towards Remus's quarters. No. He must be on patrol; that was all. Or perhaps on his way to borrow something from Flitwick. But as Remus watched, Snape drew closer still, turning all the right corners to reach Remus.

His mouth fell open when Snape moved down the hall towards Remus's door and stopped just outside it. Remus's gaze flew towards his door and then back down to the Map, his heart beating faster. Snape was right there. Remus could open the door and haul him inside and kiss the breath right out of him, if he chose. Or, at the very least, he could invite him in for tea or whisky, and they could have a long overdue talk. But Remus remained frozen to the bed, his eyes glued to the Map.

Snape's dot remained very still for several minutes. At one point it moved a bit closer, as if he were about to knock. At another, it drifted further away, as if he had decided to leave. But overall, it hovered in place just as the dot labelled _Remus Lupin_ sat, unmoving, only a centimetre away.

Remus held his breath.

But finally, the Snape dot began to move again, travelling back down the hall at a healthy speed before heading down to the dungeons. Once in Snape's quarters, the dot moved restlessly for a long time, making tiny circles and side-to-side movements even within the tiny space the Map allowed.

Not sure whether to feel relieved, disappointed or just curious, Remus finally put the Map away and went to bed.

*

"Ah, Severus, yes. Do come in." Dumbledore hastily switched off the box on his desk, as seemed to be his custom whenever Severus visited – did the old man actually watch that damned programme every bloody day? – and motioned him inside.

"Headmaster."

"I wished to speak with you about the Defence Against the Dark Arts position," began Dumbledore, and Severus immediately frowned. Putting aside his own longstanding interest in teaching those idiot students how to _actually _defend themselves rather than taking notes from a textbook, Severus was not prepared to think about, or discuss with anyone, the person currently occupying the post.

"Yes?" he croaked.

"I have been in correspondence with the Ministry," continued Dumbledore, stroking his beard, "and it seems they wish to host a Tri-Wizard Tournament here next year. What do you think about that?"

"Security would be a nightmare," said Severus immediately, barely acknowledging to himself his relief that Lupin was not the topic of conversation. "Not to mention we've hardly room to house that many foreign students. Not to also mention that– oh." He glanced at Dumbledore. "I suppose Durmstrang would be involved?"

Dumbledore nodded. "That is one thing I wished to discuss with you. Have you heard from Igor recently?"

"No."

He nodded again. "Yes, as I suspected. Well, I do believe we would need to take certain precautionary measures to ensure he does not get up to any mischief."

"You cannot be seriously considering keeping Lupin in the Defence post as a deterrent to Karkaroff?" Severus's voice rose. "The Durmstrang boys are meticulously trained, almost up to military standards with their discipline. None of them, Karkaroff included, would abide a– a– person of Lupin's–" he waved his hand – "demeanour."

"He is too kind, you mean?"

"He is too _flirty_," snapped Severus.

"The military discipline of the Durmstrang boys just might find that appealing," said Dumbledore with a sly smile. "You might be surprised to learn of the things boys at same-sex schools can get up to, Severus."

Severus made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "Headmaster," he said firmly when he'd recovered. "Lupin is a poor teacher, a useless colleague and a barely tolerable human being. I will not be sorry to see him go."

Dumbledore appraised him for a long moment, and Severus immediately threw up his mental shields. Busybody old bugger. "Well, I do not agree with you there, but I do think we should bring someone else on staff to counter any potential threats from Igor. An Auror, in fact, if I can convince the one I'm interested in."

"And Lupin?" asked Severus, cursing himself later for not following the logical progression of the conversation and asking about the Auror.

"It would be unwise to try to keep in him in the post a second year, I should think, regardless of our plans with the Tournament. Two-year terms in the past have not ended well, as you know." Dumbledore gave Severus a pointed look, and Severus nodded.

He almost felt relieved, but not only because Lupin would be gone from Hogwarts next year. "You still believe in Riddle's curse?" he asked quietly, and Dumbledore steepled his fingers.

"I believe we cannot underestimate anything Tom might have done in the past, or might be planning to do in the future."

*

The week of his next transformation, Remus found himself even more restless than usual. The students were busy revising for their exams, and Remus had plenty of time – too much, in fact – to sit alone, brooding about his life. Despite his best efforts to live his life the way he wanted and to sod everyone who objected to it, here he was: still mostly an outcast at the one steady job he'd managed to land in years, watching melodramatic Muggle television with Rosmerta every evening and whinging into a cocktail.

Not to mention the part about getting caught up in the one thing he'd sworn he'd never do again: falling for a straight man – who might have been momentarily intrigued by Remus's outward embracing of queer identity, but who ultimately was no better than any other non-ally in the world. Snape was a judgemental, narrow-minded prick who had managed to set Remus back years in his struggle for self-acceptance. Here he was, feeling embarrassed once again, _ashamed_ of who he was and who he had fallen in love with, willing to do almost anything to please that person.

It wasn't who he wanted to be.

Snape was due to bring the Wolfsbane by later that evening, and Remus was determined that they have a real talk this time. He still felt certain that Snape was denying his attraction to men, or at least to Remus, but that concerned him less than the fact that Snape still seemed to be clinging to his father's old homophobic language and ideas. Remus wouldn't let him go on like that, regardless of what had happened, or what might still happen between the two of them.

He checked the Map again out of habit, wondering where Snape might be at that moment. But before he could even locate Snape, he saw something else.

Another name.

A name Harry had mentioned to him months ago.

A name that could not possibly be real, not at Hogwarts. Not tonight.

He blinked, his mind racing. Sirius coming back to kill Harry, to "finish the job" as so many people assumed – it had never sat right with Remus. But what if Sirius had come back for another reason? His heart pounded as he tried, unsuccessfully, to quell all the hopes about Sirius he'd not let himself consider for many years. It couldn't be.

His eyes glued to the Map, he followed the dot labelled, incredibly, _Peter Pettigrew_, as it wound its way through various paths. When his gaze darted over the west side of the Map, he saw more names headed for the Whomping Willow. His mouth fell open.

The children.

With all other thoughts flying out of his head, he grabbed his wand and ran.

*

"Betrayed!" screamed Esmeralda, her high heels crashing over the marble floors like shattered glass. "My own twin sister! How could you do this, Estrella? _How_?"

A pale, dainty hand reached back and then released with great strength, slapping her across the face. "How could _I_ do it?" answered Estrella, her voice cold. "_You_ are the one who stole everything from me: my life, my identity, my husband." She blinked back tears. "Even my _baby_. And all for what? You knew I had amnesia. You knew I would never be able to fight you."

"And now you've joined forces with Hamish to get back at me, is that it?" replied Esmeralda, even as she held a hand over her cheek in shock. Her designer dress glittered next to her sister's drab jeans.

"I'm just trying to get my baby back. I don't care what Hamish does to you. I don't care _who_ killed Jean-Claude. I just want you to suffer."

"You'll be the one to suffer," whispered Esmeralda viciously. "You don't even understand what I could do to you, do you?" She almost laughed, cold and harsh. "Poor little Estrella, trying to play the hero." She took another step closer, her eyes narrowed. "I will ruin you if you dare cross me. Don't you doubt it. I can take away everything you love."

"You wouldn't," said Estrella nervously, backing away. "You can't."

"Oh, I would," Esmeralda promised, throwing a lusty look at the camera. "I _can_."

The full moon was rising high in the sky as Rosmerta turned from the telly-box to grab another glass of gin from the bar. She was closed for the night and should be upstairs in bed, but something was keeping her awake. She glanced nervously out the window, wondering how Remus was faring. He'd been so moody after making the utterly insane decision, in Rosmerta's mind, to sleep with Severus Snape, that she feared even the Wolfsbane wouldn't keep him calm tonight.

She sighed, taking her glass with her upstairs at last. Well, all she could do was have enough clean towels and soup on hand for the morning, if he woke from a night of tearing at himself.

*

It was dark in the dungeons, and cold for June.

Severus stood in the doorway to his bedroom, his back stiff and his arms hanging at his sides. The bed in front of him sat like an anchor, heavy and loaded in the centre of the room.

He couldn't look at it without thinking of Lupin.

He couldn't think of Lupin without thinking of the werewolf.

He couldn't think of the werewolf without thinking that every single goddamned thing he had ever warned Dumbledore about where Lupin was concerned had come true.

And he couldn't think of any of it without thinking of Lupin and Black, embracing like long-lost lovers.

The knot of rage that had begun to coil deep in Severus's stomach at the sight had only cemented in the hours since, and at the core of it was not Lupin's danger to the children or Black's escape or even the fucking medal he'd lost.

It was the thought that Lupin and Black, lovers or not, shared a loyalty so deep that Lupin had been willing to risk everything – _everything_ – to defend him. The core of the rage was not directed at Lupin so much as in on himself, because after the way he had behaved, Severus knew Lupin would never hold that level of trust and loyalty for him.

The clock struck six a.m., and Severus watched a single drop of condensation slide down the stone wall. It got caught in a divot and ventured sideways before resuming its downward crawl. Breaking the eerie silence, Severus came to a decision and Summoned a house-elf.

"Tell all the Slytherins to assemble in the common room in twenty minutes. There is something I need to tell them."

*

"Hey, Professor Lupin!"

Remus glanced up at the sound of the voice, pausing with his wand pointing at his bookshelf, about to perform a Shrinking spell. "Mr Clarke," he said with forced politeness.

"So, you're packing up, then?"

Remus nodded, eyeing the boy warily. "Greener pastures," he said with a faint smile as he finished the spell and guided the miniaturised books into his suitcase.

"Yeah. Guess so." The boy was running his gaze over Remus's clothing; Remus could tell. He'd not bothered with robes yet today, heading down to his office to pack in jeans, boots, and a t-shirt that, in hindsight, was probably too tight. He hadn't counted on any students actually bothering to come by to wish him well, and so figured it didn't matter what he was wearing. "So, a werewolf, huh?" Clarke paused to wet his lips as he continued to eye Remus in ways that made Remus suddenly uncomfortable.

"Was there something you wanted, Mr Clarke?" he said curtly.

To his annoyance, the boy laughed, heading back to the door and wrapping a hand around the frame. He smiled over his shoulder. "Not really," he admitted. "Just, it's odd to find out you're a werewolf. Guess it explains a few things, though." He cast one last glance over Remus's body. "Shows how much I know," he concluded. "I just thought you were like this because you're queer." Still laughing, he sauntered out of the office and down the hall.

Heat flashing across his face and down his neck, Remus pressed his lips together and stared out the door.

A moment later, Snape emerged from the shadow of the corridor. He moved within sight of the office doorway but was looking down the hall in the direction Clarke had gone, a scowl on his face. As if only belatedly realising Remus must be able to see him, he glanced into the office.

Remus met his eyes, surprised at how long Snape allowed them to stand there together without ruining it with an insult.

"Just tell me one thing, Severus," said Remus quietly. He caught Snape's gaze drifting down to linger on the nipple ring Remus figured was visible through the t-shirt. "Was it because I'm a werewolf, or because I sleep with men? Or, for that matter–" he tilted his head to the side, searching Snape's face as Snape raised his eyes again – "because I slept with _you_?"

Snape's eyes widened and his head whipped to the side, evidently scanning the corridor for eavesdroppers. "Lupin–"

"No one can tell, you know," continued Remus, fighting to keep his voice even. "That we've slept together, I mean. There's not a brand on your forehead now."

Snape opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, his gaze lingering on the pendant at the hollow of Remus's throat.

"Severus, look. I'm not really angry. Well, a little bit. But I know I wasn't cut out for teaching, not really, and I haven't been happy here. Not to mention that I do take responsibility for what happened the other night."

Snape snorted.

"Can we just talk about this, like normal bloody adults?"

Snape hesitated a moment, nearly taking a full step into the office, but then seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel abruptly and stalked down the corridor, not uttering another word.

*

"Professor Snape! Well, well, well," the alcohol-tinged voice drawled in his ear. "Now, what's an upstanding bloke like you doing in a shit-hole like this? Not aiming for that door back there, I hope."

Severus's gaze followed a meaty finger pointing across the front room of the Hog's Head towards the door to Lenora's den of sin, and he felt his stomach twist. He glanced to the side only to be met by ginger hair and an off-putting smirk. "Mr Weasley," he said with a stiff nod, recognising him from Lupin's display at the Three Broomsticks before Christmas. He lifted his drink to his lips.

"You ain't drinking alone, are you?"

Severus grimaced. Which Weasley _was_ this, anyway? The ones that weren't still at school were supposed to be out of the country, he thought.

"Come on, me and Remus've got a booth at the back." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and startled by the name, Severus followed with his eyes. "Come join us. I'm only in from Romania for the night, and the pair of us have got half a year's worth of catching up to do." He grinned, leaning his hip against the bar. "Could always use a third," he added, his voice low.

Severus whipped his head back to the man. _Charlie_, that was it. "What sort of 'catching up'?" he asked before he could stop himself, and then followed the too-eager moment with a slow sip of whisky and a roll of his eyes. "Don't tell me you and the queen of the fairies back there are an item?"

Charlie grinned, leaning in close to Severus. "Depends how my luck holds tonight, doesn't it? Ah, thanks, mate." He grabbed the two drinks that the bartender pushed towards him – one bottle of beer, Severus noted, and one awful-looking pink concoction with an umbrella in – and dropped some coins on the bar. With another wink at Severus, Charlie moved off across the room.

As Severus watched him go, he noticed Lupin for the first time, flushed and smiling as Charlie set the drinks down and slid into the booth beside him. Lupin looked healthy, surprisingly, as if a few weeks away from Hogwarts had been good for him. Charlie immediately draped an arm around Lupin and bent in close to whisper in his ear. Whatever he said made Lupin's tongue dart out to brush over his bottom lip, his eyes fluttering closed and his head falling back against Charlie's muscled arm. Laughing, Charlie placed his free hand on Lupin's thigh, and Severus watched with barely controlled rage as it crept higher and higher.

He sat stock-still at the bar, his fingers tight around his glass and barely noticing when the bartender – not Aberforth tonight but a younger fellow, all rough whiskers and stained shirtsleeves – sidled up to him. "You know those lads?" he asked accusingly, jerking his thumb towards Lupin and Charlie's booth. "Saw you talking to one of 'em."

Severus glanced up. "No."

The bartender was silent for a moment before leaning in even closer, breath like onions wafting hot over Severus's face. "You sure about that? I saw him chatting you up. You ain't one like them, are you?" He made a face, clenching his fists over the bar.

Severus looked over at Lupin and Charlie again to see them sitting much too close. He didn't know what was making him angrier: the pair of them for flaunting themselves like that, or the bartender for noticing. "No," he repeated, finally meeting the man's eyes with a cold glare.

"Because I got no place for faggots like that," the bartender continued, holding Severus's gaze. "You should tell your little friends to find another bar."

"And you should watch who you speak to like that." The words were out of Severus's mouth before he could stop them, and he stared at them as they hung between him and the bartender, floating as if in slow motion. He closed his mouth.

"That so?" The bartender puffed out his chest, tilting his head to the side.

Suddenly furious, Severus pushed off the bar stool and, ignoring the bartender, strode over to Lupin and Charlie. "Get out of here," he ordered them. "You're making a spectacle of yourselves."

Charlie laughed in surprise, pulling Lupin in closer against his side while Lupin merely glanced up at Severus. "A spectacle?" he said calmly. "Well, I should hope so. I didn't buy this shirt so I could blend in with the crowd."

Severus dropped his gaze, appalled at himself for not even _noticing_ Lupin's hideous attire for once. Sure enough, he was wearing a tight, brilliant white shirt, open at the collar and leaving nothing to the imagination. His eyes swept over the outline of the nipple ring, and he had to swallow down a moan. "You are an abomination!" he bellowed, struggling to maintain his control. "How could you possibly ever have expected to remain a teacher at that school, when you prance around Hogsmeade like a bloody prostitute, hanging off men and–"

"What are you on about now?" asked Lupin, his voice rising only slightly. "Haven't you had enough of insulting me by now? I'm staying out of your way, just like you asked, and still you find a way for me to apparently be bothering you. Well, Severus, I apologise. How galling of me to have a drink with a friend tonight and ruin your evening."

"A friend? Right. He only wants one thing from you." Severus flung a finger at Charlie, who had stopped laughing.

"Well, perhaps if you would kindly bugger off, he might be able to get it," Lupin shot back.

Severus's eyes widened. "And you're going to let him treat you that way, like a piece of meat?"

"What would you rather, Severus – that I came home with you instead? You've made it quite clear you don't want that, so you've no right to be jealous now."

Severus's rage boiled over, and his voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Jealous? Oh, don't test me, wolf."

"Or what?" Lupin sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. The gesture pulled the thin material of his shirt tighter over his chest and accented his biceps, and Severus had to consciously pull his gaze away.

"I am not jealous," he said, but his resolve was already beginning to crumble. To save himself further embarrassment, he turned on his heel and stalked across the bar, flinging the door open and relishing the sobering feel of the blunt, cool air on his face as he trudged around the corner and down the lane.

"Good evening, Professor," a new voice called out, and Severus glanced up angrily to see that damned woman from the Three Broomsticks brushing leaves off her sign out front.

"It most certainly is not," he grumbled. He was too annoyed even to be impressed with her bosom tonight.

"Severus!"

He turned to see Lupin jogging up the lane behind him – alone.

"Care to tell me what your problem is now?"

"Where's your date?" spat Severus, all too aware that the bar maid was eagerly watching this exchange.

"Chatting up the bartender," answered Lupin, tilting his head to the side. "We have a bet that despite that idiot's homophobic pronouncements, Charlie will be able to get him on his back in under twenty minutes."

Severus let out a small squawk, throwing his hands up. "So that's what your lot does – seduce innocent men even though they clearly want _nothing_ to do with you? I've had enough of you, Lupin, you and your elaborate nancy games."

But Lupin stood his ground. "Do I look like someone who needs to trick a man into bed?" he said, narrowing his eyes and planting his hands on his hips, and Severus swore he heard the bar maid giggle.

Severus paused, unable to tear his gaze from Lupin. He couldn't deal with this anymore, the constant temptation, the mixed feelings and angry regret. "I don't know what you look like," he snapped at last before dropping his voice, "or what kind of man you are." He turned away again and walked quickly down the lane.

*

Remus and Rosmerta stared after him for several long seconds, their mouths agape.

"Well," said Rosmerta at last, flapping her hands. "_Go!_"

"What?" Remus turned to her. "Where?"

"Go _after_ him, you dumb sod! He's clearly in love with you!"

Remus rubbed at his eyes.

"Did he really see you with Charlie?" She gripped his arm. "What _happened_?"

"He put on his drama queen hat and made a giant fucking production about 'saving me' from the big, bad man trying to get in my pants."

Rosmerta nearly squeaked in glee. "Remus!" she cried. "This is just like when Jean-Claude told Estrella he wouldn't marry her unless she promised to give up prostitution forever, because he loved her too much to see her with other men!"

"It's not!" said Remus, stamping his foot. "She was only baiting him anyway so she could steal his password to the safe deposit box with the Grafton family fortune!" He bit at his fingernails. "And anyway, if Esmeralda hadn't pimped her out to get money for Constance's abortion, Jean-Claude never would have met her in the first place, so it's not even the same thing at _all_, and Severus really, truly wants nothing to do with me."

Rosmerta stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Remus," she murmured, stroking his hair. "I love you, but you're an idiot. A blind man could see that he's into you."

"He got me fired!" Remus cried. "And as long as he himself doesn't want to see it–"

"If you want that man," said Rosmerta sternly, "then you go get him. Right fucking now."

Remus pulled back and looked at her, his mind racing. The sight of Snape walking away from him like that had been more painful than Remus wanted to admit. Coming to a quick, ill-advised decision, he shook his head, leaned in to kiss Rosmerta on the cheek and set off down the road. "If you're wrong about this, I'm going to sell you into prostitution," he called behind him as he ran.

*

Back in his rooms, Severus sat in his favourite armchair with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands closed in prayer over his mouth. His mind was a blur, and he could barely sort through all the myriad feelings crashing through him.

He hated Lupin and yet couldn't stop thinking about him. He wanted him gone from this school and yet continued to search him out. He could barely admit to himself that he might be – _that word_ – and yet every time he closed his eyes he could see only Lupin's lips stretched around his prick or Lupin's face crumpled in orgasm.

The whole mess was making him sick and restless and irritable and aroused to the point of bursting every time a thought of Lupin passed through his head. It had to stop.

The quiet but firm knock at his door didn't surprise him, but it still made his stomach flip.

"Severus. Open the door."

He stared at the dark wood, not moving.

"This is ridiculous. I know you're in there."

"Bugger off, Lupin," he called, his fingers fidgeting in his lap.

"Please, Severus, don't do this. I know how hard it can be to admit it to yourself, that you're attracted to men, but it doesn't have to–"

"Fuck off!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "I am not talking about this, and certainly not through a door, and certainly not with _you_."

The doorknob rattled, and Severus rolled his eyes. Stupid fool. As if it was unlocked.

"Leave me alone," he called, but the words lacked the bite he'd intended.

"You're acting like an idiot. A gay idiot, by the way."

Severus spluttered. "And how is a gay idiot different from any other kind of idiot?"

A soft laugh sounded behind the door. "He's not," called Lupin quietly.

Severus sighed, closing his eyes.

"You're hideous most days," continued Lupin, "and I don't know why I'm bothering with you when I could have my pick of men who actually bloody appreciate me, men who don't seek to destroy my career and tell all my secrets to all my enemies. That was lovely, by the way, thank you so much. But..." Severus's chest tightened at the sound of the strangled sigh behind the door. He imagined Lupin leaning against it, tracing his fingers over the wood as though over Severus's skin. "I can't stop thinking about you," murmured Lupin, "and I know you feel the same about me. Do you think I can't tell?"

Severus's heart began to beat faster as he stood in the middle of the room, at war with himself over whether to give in and open the door, or cast a Silencing charm over it and shut Lupin out forever.

"How long will you go on lying to yourself?"

"Fuck _off_," pleaded Severus, massaging his forehead

"I'll just wait longer, Severus," Lupin insisted. "I wouldn't put up with very many men who treat me like you do. I do have some fucking pride, you know."

"So why me, then?" called Severus before he could stop himself. "Why not just bugger off and leave me alone like I've asked?"

"Because I know you don't mean it," said Lupin, so softly that Severus had to move closer to the door in order to hear it. "I won't forget what you told me about your father, how hard all of this is for you. And I'm not going to walk away from you until you admit to me that you feel the same way I do – until you admit that men can feel this way about each other and the bloody world won't end."

"Lupin, for God's sake, just–"

"The world will not end, Severus," he repeated, and Severus pressed his lips together. "It's not the massive crisis you envision it to be, I promise. It's just sex, and maybe love."

He said it so casually, like it was so easy. Severus took a step towards the door.

"It's nothing out of the ordinary," concluded Lupin. "You can do this. Come on, Severus, let's finally talk about all of this. You can't keep pretending it's not happening."

Lupin was silent for long enough that Severus dared to hope he might actually have left. But then, softly and with a quiet tinge of longing to the syllables, his name came through the door one more time.

"_Severus_."

Taking a deep breath, Severus walked slowly over to the door, waving his wand over the wards and then clicking the bolt open besides, loud enough for Lupin to hear.

He moved back into the room and then stood with his back to the door as Lupin pushed it open, stepping through and stopping behind Severus. His mind blurred by Lupin's very nearness, Severus stood stiffly, staring out into the cold room and pushing the words out before he could think to take them back. "I tried to fight it, tried everything I could to make it disappear," he said in a low voice, almost hoping Lupin couldn't hear him. Lupin moved closer. "But it seems I can't."

The rush of the admission sucked the air from Severus's lungs, but with it, a cool brush of pure calm stole over him. Lupin was right: the world _hadn't_ collapsed around him like he'd feared it would. All was standing, and moreover, he felt relieved, almost free, for the first time in as long as he could remember. He felt the warm imprint of Lupin's tentative hand on him, sliding up his back and shoulder and down over his bicep. He turned his head to the side, barely daring to breathe.

Lupin carefully turned him the rest of the way around until they were facing each other. The naked emotion on Lupin's face made the whole debacle worthwhile, Severus decided, as he locked his gaze on Lupin's and moved his hands up to frame his face. God, it had been too long since they'd done this, too long since he'd touched Lupin this way, kissed him and slid fingers over his skin. As they leaned towards each other and their lips brushed again at last, Severus decided that he would never let the denial, fear and anger overtake him again, that if this was really happening and Lupin was giving him another chance, he would never walk out on him again.

The emotion of the kiss crashed over him as he pulled Lupin in tighter. Lupin's fingers slid into Severus's hair even as his lips parted in a soft moan, and Severus gripped him around the back of the neck, needing more of him, now. He dropped his hands to Lupin's ridiculous shirt, glancing down at the sheer material and feeling another jolt of arousal because no, it wasn't ridiculous; it was bloody incredible, the way the damn thing fitted him and accentuated his chest and biceps, and bloody, buggering fuck, Severus wanted to rip it off him right that second.

Instead, he unbuttoned it slowly, pausing the kiss to take his time with it. His forehead rested against Lupin's as they both glanced down to watch him, and Lupin gave a great sigh when Severus finally finished the last button and pushed it off Lupin's shoulders. Sliding his hands back up Lupin's smooth chest, he stopped at the nipple ring and brushed against it, earning a deep groan from Lupin, who closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

Letting his fingers move further up, Severus stroked them over the shell of Lupin's ear, lightly jostling the row of earrings there. He leaned in and followed his fingers with his tongue, tasting the cool metal and tugging one gently between his teeth, relishing the way Lupin shivered in his arms.

"You _like_ the poncy jewellry," murmured Lupin with a breathy laugh, but Severus only bit at Lupin's earlobe again before pulling back and wetting his lips. Then Lupin's mouth was on him again, more insistent this time, and Severus held nothing back. Lupin's fingers fumbled with Severus's own shirt until it fell open and they were chest to chest again, just like that first time.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," breathed Severus against Lupin's lips, and Lupin stopped, panting, to blink at him.

"What? Oh." His laugh came out as a gasping moan. "Well, maybe a little bit," he murmured against Severus's ear. Then he took Severus's hand and hauled him back to the bedroom. Urgently, he unfastened Severus's trousers and shoved them down, taking care of his own while Severus kicked his boots off and stepped out of the trousers. When they were undressed and kissing again, Lupin tucked a lock of Severus's hair behind his ear and said, "You're not going to freak out this time, are you?"

"I don't think so," murmured Severus, biting at Lupin's neck, "but then, I don't know what you plan on doing to me."

"Ah." Lupin's breath over the side of his face made Severus shiver. "What do you want me to do to you?"

Groaning, Severus pushed him down to the bed and crawled on top of him, kissing down his chest and pausing to flick his tongue over the nipple ring. "Everything," he breathed. Lupin moaned at that, clawing at his back and arching up against him, and God, how did he ever think he didn't need this? He moved lower, his mouth dragging over Lupin's stomach and thighs before he brushed his cheek over Lupin's cock, breathing deeply. "Brilliant," he murmured, and Lupin's breath hitched.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, he slid his tongue up Lupin's shaft and lapped at the tip, encouraged by Lupin's gasps from the head of the bed. He gripped it firmly around the base, a small thrill exploding down his spine at the sudden realisation that he was holding another man's prick, and that it felt bloody incredible. Before he could register that, he went even further, pushing it through his lips until he had taken about half of it in.

"Oh, _oh_, okay. God, Severus, you– are you sure you want to– _God_."

It was thick and strange in his mouth, but the sounds Lupin was making were worth it. He smelled gorgeous, and Severus let Lupin's prick slip through his lips a few more times, bobbing his head experimentally, before he released it. Draped between Lupin's legs, he dragged the back of his hand over his mouth as he glanced up at Lupin, smirking at the look of blissed-out shock on his face.

"So, I'm going to stop treating you like a blushing virgin, I see," muttered Lupin, sitting up and crawling towards him, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss. "It's rude to leave a man hanging like that," he growled, biting at Severus's lips. On instinct, Severus pulled Lupin into his lap until Lupin was straddling him, and then he reached down and grasped both their pricks in his fist, giving one long upwards sweep.

"Maybe I don't want you to come in my mouth tonight," he murmured between kisses, his mind buzzing with the knowledge that he was making Lupin moan like this.

"Don't tell me it's just too gay for you," teased Lupin, scratching a fingernail down Severus's chest. "I'll make sure you try it sometime, you know. There's something deeply arousing about swallowing a man's come."

It was Severus's turn to groan. He clenched his fist tighter around their pricks until Lupin gasped, dropping his head to Severus's shoulder. "Maybe," he continued, his voice a rough whisper in Lupin's ear, "I want you to come inside me."

Lupin let out a slow moan and a rush of breath against the side of Severus's neck at that, slumping against him with clutching hands. "You– oh, _God_. You don't even know what you're talking about," he protested weakly after finding his voice again. But the words cracked coming out of his mouth, and Severus felt Lupin's desire in the way his prick pulsed hotly in Severus's fist. "We can just do what we did last time," said Lupin, his chest heaving. "Or you can suck me. Something like that. You don't want–"

"_Last_ time," interrupted Severus, still nuzzling at Lupin's neck and biting at his earrings, "I nearly had another orgasm after you left, from the sheer _thought_ that the come between my thighs had slid out of me from you fucking me."

Lupin's prick jumped in Severus's hand.

"So don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about."

With another groan, Lupin lifted Severus's hand from their pricks, framed his face with his own hands, and hauled him in for a deep kiss. His tongue lapped at Severus's lips, tasting every bit of him and gasping against his mouth. "You're going to be an impossibly pushy bottom, aren't you?" whispered Lupin against his lips, smiling.

"Don't tell me you expected anything less?"

"I didn't expect you'd want to bottom at all."

Severus pulled back, suddenly unsure of himself as he searched Lupin's eyes. He realised at that moment that a great deal of his previous trepidation must have been rooted in the fact that he was unaccustomed to, and did not enjoy, being _bad_ at things. It was almost painful to have to admit that he had finally found himself in a situation in which he had no idea what he was doing, besides what he'd seen in those magazines, and what his own brain was telling him would feel good. "Is that your role, then?" he said gruffly. "Should have known, the way you dress."

"Oh no, you don't. Don't start that shit again," warned Lupin, pushing Severus back down on the bed and straddling his hips. "The way I dress _might_ tell an observant outsider that I sleep with men, although even that is inconclusive, but it doesn't say anything about what I like to do with those men once I get them in bed." He leaned down, dragging his tongue over Severus's nipple. "And if you say you want a cock up your arse, my brilliant little queer, then that's exactly what you're going to get."

A flash of residual rage surged through Severus at the taunt, but it was gone a second later. He was left only with the imprint of Lupin's words and the promise of finally satisfying months of burning curiosity. But it was more than that, too. While their first time together might have been an experiment, this was not. Even if he ended up hating anal sex, Severus decided, it wouldn't change how he felt about Lupin. He had to admit that now. He reached a hand up to grip Lupin around the back of the neck, hauling him in for another deep kiss. "No more talking," he breathed, and Lupin smiled.

"Just a little bit more," he said, struggling to push himself off Severus's chest and reach for his wand. "First, there's this." He sat back on his heels and tapped the wand over his prick, gasping a bit at the contact. "Normally, it's not a good idea to wait until you're as far gone as I am to do this," he grumbled, "but also, better late than never." He murmured a string of words, tapping his wand between himself and Severus, and Severus creased his brow. He recognised some, the standard sexual protection spells that he used with women, but a few words were new.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Special gay stuff," Lupin deadpanned. Severus shot him a withering look and Lupin smiled, turning serious for a moment. "I'll teach it to you later. And not that I ever want you sleeping with any man but me, but if you do, you bloody well fucking use it, do you hear me?"

Surprised at Lupin's gravity, Severus nodded. "Very well."

"Now." Dropping the wand off the side of the bed, Lupin's expression softened. He crawled back over top of Severus and leaned in close. "There are a few ways we could do this, and I'm having trouble deciding. On the one hand, I very much want to see your face when I push inside you."

Severus moaned.

"But on the other hand, I think it will hurt less if you're on your hands and knees." He licked at the base of Severus's throat. "Do you have a preference?"

Images of both scenarios flashed through his mind, and Severus's prick stiffened even further. "God," he gasped, closing his eyes. "I don't care."

Lupin seemed to consider it for another moment, trailing his fingers down Severus's torso before coming to a decision. He leaned in to whisper in Severus's ear. "Turn over."

He did, sliding onto his stomach and letting the warm imprint of the sheets surround him. He stretched out his limbs and turned his face to the side, parting his lips. Above him, Lupin draped himself over Severus's back, kissing over his shoulder blades and down his spine, his fingers kneading the muscles of Severus's shoulders and biceps. He straddled Severus's hips, and Severus could feel the blunt weight of Lupin's erection pressing against the cleft of his arse. He pushed himself up on his knees. "Can't wait," he murmured.

Whispering a few more words, Lupin slid his fingers between Severus's open legs. "I'll teach you that one, too," he said with a soft laugh over Severus's back. "Unless you've already done this sort of thing with women?"

Severus blinked a few times until he caught the implication, snorting into the pillow. "Not as such, no," he grumbled, but then he had no time for annoyance with Lupin's jokes, because thick fingers were sliding through his cleft and probing at him, teasing him and coaxing him open. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

"Relax," whispered Lupin above him, the fingers circling, breaching, and sliding back, over and over again until Severus was pushing his hips back rhythmically, searching for more contact. The cues must have been right, because Lupin stopped teasing him. He slid what felt like one full finger inside and paused, kissing a trail up Severus's spine.

Severus's fantasies came alive with a crash through his mind and body as Lupin's finger began to move. Severus remembered trying this himself after their first encounter, sliding his own fingers through Lupin's come and inside himself, but the angle had been all wrong; he could see that now. _God_, this was like– this was like _nothing_ else. Lupin worked at him, his voice fading to a series of soothing whispers against Severus's back and his hands creating a flurry of sensation over his skin, down his back and thighs and then inside him, opening him up and making him want more.

"Enough of that," murmured Lupin, sliding one hand around to Severus's chest and pulling him backwards, on his knees with his arse fully exposed. It felt oddly liberating to be in another's hands this way, letting another man control how he received his pleasure, but at the same time, he could barely even remember having sex any other way right now. All he could think and feel was Lupin, all around him.

The breath fell out of his lungs in one choked gasp at the feel of Lupin's cock breaching him for the first time. It tugged at his insides through a film of oil, sliding and pulling at the same time as Lupin pushed in, and then Severus nearly lost the ability to think.

"All right?" gasped Lupin, his breath coming quickly over Severus's back, and Severus could only groan in response, falling to his elbows and burying his head in his arms.

"God," he choked out. "_Yes_."

Lupin's arms wrapped around him from behind, his hands smoothing over Severus's chest and stomach with broad caresses that sparked even more nerves in Severus's body. Lupin began to pull him back gently, using the hands spreading over Severus's chest to guide him back onto Lupin's cock, and the quiet intensity with which Lupin built a gentle rhythm took Severus's breath away. It felt good. It felt _right_. Lupin's prick swelled and pushed inside him with each new thrust, working towards Lupin's climax, and Severus could feel the way Lupin's fingers trembled slightly over Severus's skin.

The intimacy of the act nearly overwhelmed him as they picked up speed, Lupin thrusting in harder and choking out low moans as Severus pushed his palms against the headboard for leverage and absorbed the increasingly punishing thrusts with rhythmic grunts. Lupin's breathing became erratic, and Severus could sense from the thickening of Lupin's prick pressing against the walls of his arse that Lupin was about to come. The knowledge and sensation of it made him sob with pleasure, his head falling between his shoulders and his legs nearly giving out.

"God," Lupin moaned. "Oh, _oh_. Yeah, God. Yeah." The warm rush inside him, Lupin's choked breath over his back and the soft pulsing of his body made Severus gasp out loud, groaning against the pillows and falling to the bed. Lupin landed on top of him and straddled him again, continuing to thrust gently through his orgasm as Severus felt the wet trickle of come begin to seep down his legs. He felt filthy, debauched and utterly in love. "Holy Christ," panted Lupin, falling on top of him with verve and attacking his neck with desperate lips.

He pulled out slowly and then pushed Severus over onto his back. He kissed him fiercely, his hands framing Severus's face.

"Are you– Here. God." He slid his hands down quickly and found Severus's cock. It had flagged a bit from the penetration, but as Lupin worked his palm over it, Severus hardened again, groaning with the urge to come all over him.

"Can I?" he panted, surprising himself with the question. "Just for a minute. God, I won't last. But I have to know what it's like." He sucked a finger into his mouth and pressed it between Lupin's legs, smirking as Lupin's eyes went wide.

"You– _now_? Christ. All right. But I'll be a bit sensitive after all that." Lupin tensed as Severus circled the rim of his entrance. "Okay, never mind. That's– _God._ That's brilliant. No protests here. Wait." He murmured the lubrication spell over his fingers, then beckoned for Severus to lift his hand and take some of the oil. "Like that. I won't need as much – _nnng_ – preparation as you did."

Gazing up at him with parted lips, Severus pulled Lupin up to straddle him and moved his slick hand between them. He pushed his fingers in slowly, two to start, and gasped at the warmth of Lupin's body around him. After a few experimental thrusts in and out, Lupin grabbed his wrist, his face flushed.

"That's good," he panted. He raised himself up on his knees and hovered, taking Severus's prick in his hand and guiding it to the cleft of his arse. "God, you're so hard," he moaned. "You miserable fucking prick. How dare you be so good at this." Severus smiled at that, watching as Lupin closed his eyes and began to sink down over Severus's cock. He took him in faster than he had entered Severus, and the very thought that Lupin didn't need as much preparation or practice because he _did this_ all the time, men fucked him like this, he was _used _to it, made Severus's head swim with envy and his cock ache with desire.

Lupin's thighs began to work on either side of Severus's hips as he rode Severus's cock. He planted his hands over Severus's chest and grinned down at him, his eyes hooded, his hair tousled and his face awash with lust. Severus's eyes fell to Lupin's half-hard cock bobbing over Severus's stomach and reached his hands up to scrape over Lupin's flat, bare chest. His mind flashed back to Francesca, soft and beautiful in her own way, but nothing like this, and no longer what he wanted. Lupin's body gripped him in ways that sent the blood racing through Severus, hammering in his ears and flooding his senses. It was tight but not only that; it was a different shape, a different feel entirely from what he was used to, and even more than that, it was _Lupin_, allowing him this intimacy.

He needed more.

With the blood rushing to his cock and his balls beginning to draw up, Severus sat up, dislodging himself from Lupin's body too quickly.

"Jesus." Lupin winced, his eyes flashing, but as Severus moved to his knees, pushing Lupin onto his back, Lupin nodded, a smirk of victory dancing across his lips.

Severus moved over top of him and entered him again, this time driving forth with more force than he could muster from below. He pinned Lupin down and _fucked _him, releasing every sordid fantasy he'd entertained since the beginning of the school year, if he was honest with himself. He was coming before he was ready, wanting the moment to last forever somehow but knowing that the very thought that he was finally doing this was going to send him over the edge.

Lupin, that filthy queen, talked him all the way through it. "God, yeah. Come for me, Severus. Come inside me. Fuck, yes. Harder. _Harder_. You dirty little slut. Look at you, fucking a man at last. You're brilliant, you know that? Oh, God. Yeah."

Severus collapsed over Lupin's body, his cock still pulsing feebly and the answering throb of Lupin's arse squeezing at him. He found himself panting against Lupin's chest as he withdrew, sticky and exhausted. Lupin's arms came around him and locked him in against Lupin's side. They were quiet for several long moments while they caught their breath.

"Don't you dare freak out on me," warned Lupin, his lips teasing Severus's ear.

"I'll do anything I bloody please," grumbled Severus, gasping at the feel of warm breath on him again.

"No, you won't. Because now your secrets are my secrets too." He kissed up the side of Severus's neck. "So the next time you feel the need to reveal any of mine, I have more than enough of yours to get back at you with, wouldn't you agree?"

Severus moaned, pressing himself further against Lupin. "Yes, fine," he muttered, searching for Lupin's lips. When he turned his head to the right angle, he captured Lupin's mouth in a deep kiss, his thumbs brushing Lupin's cheeks as Lupin pushed himself up on one elbow and leaned over Severus. "Do you want me to be your secret?" he added quietly.

Lupin blinked down at him for a moment before a slow smile spread over his face and he shook his head. "No," he whispered, leaning down to kiss Severus again. "Do you want me to be yours?" he added when he pulled back.

Severus stretched out underneath him, considering. "Maybe for a bit," he admitted, "but not– no. Not for long."

Lupin seemed to understand, thankfully. He traced his fingers over Severus's cheek and down to the hollow of his throat, where the pads of two fingers rested over Severus's pulse. "We'll get to that," he said softly. "Methods for not going completely 'round the twist at the thought that every person you meet needs to know who you sleep with and why." He smiled. "It can be a pain in the arse, but it's also nice to keep one's secrets to a minimum, I find."

Severus nodded, closing his eyes against his sudden exhaustion. They were silent for a few moments before Severus cracked an eye open again to find Lupin fixated on Severus's sparse chest hair, twirling his fingers through it in intricate patterns. _Waxing_, he recalled Dumbledore saying of gay men. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "The position is cursed, by the way," Severus said instead. Lupin glanced up at him. "You likely would have died a horrible death if you'd stayed on next year." He arched up to bite at Lupin's lips, preventing him from replying.

"You– it's– oh, mm." Lupin kissed him again before pulling back. "Is it really?"

"Mm."

Lupin flopped back down on the bed, grinning. "Well! That's one I hadn't heard before. A curse. _Honestly_. See, this is why we need Wizarding soap operas. Just think of the possibilities if Esmeralda could _curse _Constance's house instead of simply burning it to the ground." He draped an arm across Severus's chest, snuggling closer even as Severus rolled his eyes.

"I think you have more than enough drama in your life, Lupin."

Lupin smiled at him. "With you? More than enough."

*

Dumbledore glanced over at his companion before popping another bite of crisps into his mouth. "My dear. You are going to make me feel unwelcome, constantly looking for a better offer like that."

Rosmerta tore her gaze from the door of the bar and gave him an apologetic smile. "Oh, I'm sorry," she cooed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's just that it's not like Remus to miss an episode on Fridays. That's when the big cliffhangers are."

On the screen, Esmeralda held a knife to Portia's throat, as Hamish and Mary Beth struggled to prise it away from her.

"You know," said Dumbledore, "I have always favoured Portia with Mary Beth, and yet, this strange programme doesn't seem to wish to go in that direction."

Rosmerta tilted her head to the side. "I do believe that comment was downright pervy, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded. "Hm. Indeed, it might have been. Well, in any case, the show could use some shaking up, wouldn't you agree? I believe I have become bored with Esmeralda's antics, although the venture with the sock was very much to my liking."

"As a murder weapon?"

"It was clever."

Rosmerta shrugged. "I guess so. But some things don't need shaking up; that's what I say. Find a formula that works, and stick with it." She nodded, pointing at the box.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, one should never fear a bit of change in one's life, I always say, particularly if one is not finding that their formula, as you put it, is working. But on the other hand–" he winked at her and then glanced up at the door – "perhaps you're right, my dear. Perhaps you're right."

 

-fin-


End file.
